


Across the Stars

by morgellons



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Accidental Drug Use, Adventures In Space, Alien Flora & Fauna, Angst, Anxiety, Ask questions if things get weird omg, Attempt at Humor, Awkward Kylo Ren, Awkwardness, Canon Compliant, Drinking, Eventual Smut, Existentialism, Extreme Nerdism, F/M, Feels, Fluff, Graphic Description of Corpses, Hux Has No Chill, Kylo Ren is Actually Nice, Kylo Ren is a Sweetheart, Kylo can still be a jerk sometimes but we love him anyway, Kylo is soft, Mathematics, Metaphysics, Occasional nihilism, Philosophical Rambling, Pining, Planetary Romance, Plot, Politics, Pre-TFA, Protective Kylo Ren, Psychology, READER-CHAN MAY OR MAY NOT BE FORCE-SENSITIVE, Reader Belongs in the Trash Compactor, Reader has a potty mouth, Science, Self-Indulgent, Shameless Political Commentary, Sliding into them DMs, Slow Burn, Social Anxiety, Some pretty trippy shit, Technobabble that actually means something, biologist!reader, number theory, reader is a nerd, references everywhere, theoretical physics, uwu, wibbly wobbly timey wimey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-01-22 21:57:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 23
Words: 31,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12491728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgellons/pseuds/morgellons
Summary: But in the end, an animal is only an animal— something that can be studied and understood. You could never feel fear and hatred towards an animal. Not a hulking rancor. Not a parasitic mynock. Not even perhaps the most feared being in the Galaxy: Kylo Ren.Now featuring a playlist!





	1. The Report

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by my original ask [here](https://thirst-order-confession.tumblr.com/post/164000633682).
> 
>  
> 
> [Music](https://youtu.be/RP6UJkBPYwQ)

“What do you mean _unsafe_?”

The black-clad ginger paced before you, a frustrated scowl plastered onto his pale face.

“I’m sorry general. I can’t tell you much else. This is a huge risk. I wish I could do more to help, but…” You turned to face the window of your small office. Among the backdrop of distant stars stood a bold, indigo sphere. Mazes of green danced across its surface, while spectacular popcorn clouds dotted the troposphere. “Those guerrillas you’ve been after? They chose a fantastic hiding spot.”

“They’re not _on_ the planet, Doctor. Surprisingly, they hadn’t been foolish enough to stay for too long,” Hux remarked, his icy narrowed eyes finally catching your own.

_And they were so very right to do so! Unlike our very own First Order, the AIF gives a second thought to the welfare of—_

“The _difference_ , Doctor, between the AIF and the First Order…” Hux must have recognized your perturbation. “...Is that we have resources readily available that they happen to lack. Or so I had _thought_.”

With that, he shot you a particularly nasty scowl, as if you somehow had control over the matter. You knew you were simply the bearer of bad news, but what use would it be to attempt to argue with General Hux?

“Sir, I assure you, we are definitely capable. And really, we _could_ do this, but success would come at a great price.” You took a moment to articulate yourself. “I know you understand— I’m sure you do, sir. There’s a point when you’ve succeeded, and you’ve lost so much in the process… is it really success anymore, then?”

For a second, Hux seemed genuinely taken aback. His stare still ever-judgemental, his lips still twisted into a scowl, but there was now something new: a spark of interest. “Yes. I understand, Doctor. Nevertheless, you’ve been rather vague in your reports. Care to indulge me?”

Though his tone was not entirely sincere, Hux’s inquiry was perhaps as “chivalrous” as you’d likely ever hear out of him for a while, especially towards a lowly scientist such as yourself.

_I’ll indulge you, alright._

“ _First_ of all, the rumors about Garatira are mostly true. Don’t let her beauty deceive you; she’s a rancor in varactyl’s clothing. It’s hot— _horribly_ hot. Humid too. Essentially, the whole planet is a giant jungle, and you’re going to need a good navigator and a hardy team to get through it all.” You shuffled through the notes spread across your desk. Hux seemed to eye your mess with an air of repulsion.

_Oh dear. I hope General Hux isn’t too disturbed by my, uh, organized chaos?_

The general’s expression failed to falter in the slightest.

_Whatever. He’ll have to deal with my crap if he wants his answers._

“An issue besides thick vegetation is the huge potential of a run in with non-Newtonian clay. The topsoil usually gets soaked through with moisture, so the clay layers beneath it give away pretty easily. If you want to read more, feel free to look through these.” You patted the hastily stacked papers you had placed on the desk between the both of you. “But the terrain is just the start of our worries, sir.”

Hux inhaled sharply, taking the stack underneath his arm. “Of course. I was beginning to believe you mean to say patches of measly quicksand would impede my men.”

_He never misses the chance. Disappointing, but I’m not surprised..._

“Mhmm. Getting stuck in the ground isn’t the problem. It might take a few minutes to get out, especially with all that clunky armor weighing you down, but typically that’s not a death sentence. But in this case, those few minutes are crucial to whether you’re going to live to see another day.”

“And what is this enigmatic danger exactly? Get to the point, Doctor. I haven’t all day to discuss this,” the general snapped.

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m referring to the indigenous wildlife. _Limotherium rhyncocruenta_ , it lives in the deep areas of the less viscous mud. The adults are a major reason why the nearby planets haven’t considered colonizing. About fifteen feet, nose to tail, and typically a ton in weight,” you remarked, holding your hands out a yard apart. “And absolutely _massive_ jaws. It’ll wait and wait, until suddenly— a disturbance in the mud. _Thrashing_.”

Hux sighed at your dramatics. It was a stark contrast. You were nearly grateful for the man’s presence, rather than annoyed as you had been before. It wasn’t often you had the pleasure of passionately rambling off on somebody, and you couldn’t take for granted an opportunity like this. Even if they weren’t necessarily appreciative of your rambling. _Even if that person happened to be General Hux._

“...And when you disturb a hungry _L. rhyncocruenta_ , you become destined for, well… being mauled and digested!”

_Maybe that’ll knock some sense into him!_

Hux was certainly less than enthusiastic, unlike yourself. Nonetheless, he seemed unfazed. “How avoidable is this situation?”

 _And he persists_. “Well general, the likelihood is exactly what prompts me to advise you against it. To have a good chance, I’d really suggest not to bring many of your troopers or anything along, as to avoid drawing attention to yourselves out there. Search party or otherwise, safety first.”

He nodded reassuringly. “That can be negotiated. I shall see to it that the squad is equipped heavily in both armor and—“

“Forgive me interrupting sir, but we’ll actually want to have them dressed as light as possible. Anybody wearing layers while navigating an environment like this one is bound to get heatstroke,” you insisted, giving him a small smile.

_It would be unfortunate if somebody died underneath all that armor. Besides… I’m sure Hux would find a way to blame me for it somehow!_

“ _Doctor_ ”, the general hissed. “This mission is vital. I _cannot_ afford to compromise it. That being said, how do you expect the squad to properly defend themselves against your… mud monsters?”

“ _Sir_ ,” you replied, perhaps harsher than you had intended, “we’d have to make it so that they wouldn’t _need_ to defend themselves. Even if you do succeed in injuring one, the rest will flock to the scent of blood. I gathered enough data with the drone I had sent down to Garatira about a year ago to estimate their numbers— it’s fair to say it’s a common species. In other words, mission compromised.”

It was rather surprising how long the ever-impatient Hux had endured the conversation. Yes, he was punctual and curt, but ambitious too. His orderly nature practically radiated off of him. Equally so, his need to lead, to command. Frankly, this exchange had involved much more than simple command, and you could see clearly the frustration bundling up inside of him. Even stronger than this; however, was his lust for success. He simply would never accept “no” for an answer.

“Watch your tone,” Hux spat, his glare boring holes through you. “From what you’ve told me, you imply this planet is fairly difficult to traverse without incident,” he continued, after pausing for a moment. “Is that correct?”

You nodded. “Yes. Very.”

“Let us say navigation was my sole responsibility in the squad,” your superior supposed, somewhat plainly. “How must I prepare?”

You imagined Hux: the tall, lanky trailblazer traveling through the thick rainforests of Garatira—cutting down the shrubland before him with a swing of a machete, then proceeding to bathe himself in bug spray to spare his poor, pasty skin. It took every ounce of self control to fight your urge to giggle at the image in your mind.

“Well to begin with, you’ll need an extensive knowledge of the planet itself. And in actuality, there is very, very little information available. Not to brag, but I think I could say that I’ve collected the most data on Garatira than every other person combined! Considering all of the r—“

“Then it’s settled. You’ll be accompanying the squad on this mission,” Hux snapped, looking very smug.

_WHAT? No no no no, I haven’t done remote field work in years! I can’t, I just can’t!_

“What? No! Sir, I—“

“You are to _accompany_ the squad on the mission. _Clearly_ , you are the most qualified to take on the responsibility. As you had said.”

You chewed at you nails anxiously. He was right. You were the most qualified.

“Yes, sir.”

“Excellent. Luckily for you, we are not departing very soon. I suggest you take this time to prepare yourself, Doctor,” he told you, very obviously proud of himself. “I must be off to a meeting. It is important that I relay this information to the Commander.”

Hux returned the stack of notes from underneath his arm to your desk. He stared at you with a gaze much less threatening that before. “I believe you’ll be needing these much more than I do.”

“I’ll see you in a week. Good luck, Doctor,” he said finally, straightening his coat. He left your office, his boots clacking softly against the dark floors, and the door clicking gently behind him. He certainly didn’t leave you feeling very confident in the slightest.

You collapsed backward into your chair, rubbing your eyes with your palms. You leaned back, as far as the chair allowed, and began to run your fingers through your hair.

_Shit. SHIT. What the shit?! I can’t do this! A week? “Not soon”? Is he out of his damn mind? I’m going to die out there. Haha, time to accept my fate. It was nice living! Adios, everyone._

You say back up again, your heart still pounding in your chest.

_Okay, okay. Don’t panic. I was at the top of my class. That counts for something, right? I hope. I just can’t not do this. They’re depending on me. I should have known something like this would happen._

You wiped your clammy palms against your pants, then rubbed them together. Your hands felt cold.

_Stars, a shower sounds nice. Wait, I seriously need to prepare… Okay, shower first, then I get ready immediately after. I can do this. I’ll get through. I hope._

  
_Maybe everything will be fine._


	2. Mitochondria is the Powerhouse of the Cell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps you should have chosen to eat your breakfast in the cafeteria after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy late Halloween! Here’s chapter two!

It had been three days since Hux had informed you of your involvement in the mission to Garatira. After those three restless, caf-driven days of writing, sorting, and compiling data, it was only fair that you allowed yourself to rest. After all, you couldn’t _completely_ wear yourself out before the great escapade.

You lazily craned your neck, reluctant to leave the comfort of your less than luxurious standard issue bed. 08:32, your bedside chrono read. You turned to hug your single pillow to your cheek. _Three hours later than usual. This is nice. Ugh, I need to find a way to sleep in more often!_

Your room was small, much smaller than your room on Starkiller. It was cold too. The sleek, black, and painfully basic interior was a bit short of welcoming, but you tried your best to ignore that. You had attempted to give the room a pop of personality— various photographs haphazardly taped around your living space still enduring since the endeavor. Some of these pictures included the incredible temperate rainforests of Endor, the long-gone expanses of Lothal’s spine trees and orchards, and a rusty orange can-cell perching atop a wroshyr tree on Kashyyyk. One of your favorites showcased the genetic diversity of the tookah. The most stunning specimen, a loth-cat, stood in the center with her wide, dark eyes fixed on the camera before her. _So cute. As soft and beautiful as Millicent is, some of these exotic felines could probably give her a run for her money…_

Unfortunately, your decor could never be as satisfying as the real thing. At least the mission on Garatira will liberate you from the equally dark and industrial ship. Besides the whole notion of your own impending doom, you were beginning to look forward to a breath of fresh air.

Speaking of fresh air, the best you could do for now was to get out of your stuffy quarters. You threw on a pair of slacks and a black dress shirt, enduring the chilly air as you changed. After several twists and turns through the endless, dimly lit hallways, you arrived at the cafeteria for breakfast.

The _Finalizer_ was an enormous vessel. Her crew consisted of at least one hundred fifty thousand, and she spanned nearly three kilometers in length. There were multitudes of near-identical hallways— these hallways so numerous that getting lost amidst them was no chore at all. Despite this, you eventually acquired a sense of direction after spending more time aboard the battlecruiser. Finding your way isn’t something you would fret over too much about nowadays. Needless to say, this wasn’t always the case. During your first stay, you were absolutely mortified.

 _What if I wander into a trash compactor? What if I take a wrong turn and, instead of opening a door to another room, I shoot myself out a damn airlock?!_ You were constantly worrying that you’d end up in a life-threatening situation after getting lost— and you did get lost. You got lost several times during that godforsaken first stay. Fortunately, in none of these instances did you have a near-death experience. An officer or stormtrooper was never too far away to escort you back to your quarters, though they weren’t usually very happy to have to do so.

You made your way out of the cafeteria as soon as you could. It gets awfully crowded in there, and you would rather have your lackluster meal—somehow even more lackluster than the food of Starkiller Base— in your slightly more comfortable room.

You held your tray with care, cautious as to not spill your cup of hot caf. _I wouldn’t want that to happen again._

You winced, recalling the physical and emotional pain of drenching your top in near-boiling caf— all because you were in too much of a hurry to leave to pay any attention to your own safety. It was _not_ a pleasant experience.

The unfortunate incident had encouraged you to slow down a bit once in awhile. You began your route back to your quarters. A few stormtroopers dashed past you, streaks of red and blue glistening onto their shiny white armor. The colored light that illuminated from the walls was something you came to appreciate. It was a flash of color in an endless black ocean. Several officers and one technician rushed by, bickering amongst themselves quietly as they briskly walked. _What’s their hurry?_

You could hear muffled shouting in the distance, and picked up your pace slightly. It grew louder as you approached the end of the corridor. You stopped dead in your tracks. It was _him_.

A hurricane of black with a presence that could incite terror in any one of his subordinates that was unfortunate enough to cross paths with him— _that_ was Kylo Ren. Despite it all, you almost admired him, albeit from a distance. It wasn’t often you had a close encounter. You shuffled into a corner, hoping to appear less noticeable.

The commander seemed angry— a retracted lightsaber in one hand, the other balled tightly into a fist. _Wow. Kylo Ren, commander of the First Order. Jedi Killer and extraordinarily gifted Force-sensitive! I heard he can even freeze blaster bolts in midair and read minds! What an astonishing human being— if he is even human. Is he? No one ever sees him with nothing less than his mask and many layers… Not that his outfit isn’t cool— it’s pretty sick, you’ve got to admit. Especially the surcoat, the way it flows when he walks is great for dramatic effect! That cowl looks awfully cozy… And the mask is pretty badass too! I wonder what’s underneath. Maybe sometime I’ll— OH SHIT HE’S LOOKING AT ME._

The dark figure practically towered over you. Through his visor, you could see your reflection staring right back. You must have looked ridiculous— a very tired scientist, shivering and gripping onto a breakfast tray as if life itself depended upon it, all while shrinking before Kylo Ren himself— who seemingly just initiated an impromptu staring contest.

You took a shallow, shuddered breath. Your head hurt, but you were unsure if the feeling resonated from a possible mind probing, or a migraine from the sheer stress you’ve been experiencing.

_Oh Stars. Okay, okay, uhhhh… Millicent, a cat. Taxonomic nomenclature, Felis catus. A carnivorous— obligate carnivore— endothermic quadruped. Digitigrade legs, a tail, both aid in locomotion. Ummm, SPIDERS! Mygalomorphae have two book lungs and chelicerae that point downwards! Araneomorphae fangs go side to side! Arachnids are of Arthropoda, which are animals! Animal cells don’t have cell walls! Methane gas is released as bubbles are melted within permafrost. Rainforest topsoil is low in nutrients… Photosynthesis is performed inside the chloroplast! MITOCHONDRIA IS THE POWERHOUSE OF THE CELL._

Kylo Ren was gone just as quickly as he arrived. The commander turned away from you after what felt like an eternity— although it was really only a few moments— suddenly losing any interest in you he may have had. He stormed off, not giving you a second look.

Sighing, you sunk down and plopped your tray on your lap. You stayed there for several minutes until you could no longer endure sitting on the cold floor. _Did he hear all that? If he did— oh, he would have heard me going on about his outfit! Even worse… my nerd ramblings! Oh, I’m sorry, Commander._

You mentally kicked yourself. How typical of you to bring heaps of embarrassment upon yourself, Kylo Ren of all people bearing witness. You were in a _great_ mood to get back to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nice job, Reader-chan, you disgustingly educational creature.


	3. Briefing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This wasn’t in the job description.
> 
>  
> 
> [Music](https://youtu.be/KLQXwuK2Nhg)

  
An officer motioned for you after what seemed like hours. He was rather meek— small in stature with a soft and almost fearful look to him. You promptly followed him into the small room from which he came.

Hux stood before a squad of six stormtroopers. He must have been briefing them on the mission for some time now. He spoke fiercely with a passion you would have admired if it were someone other than Hux speaking. They listened intently to their general, gazes unbreaking even as you entered the room. _Did they even notice me?_

You took a seat at a desk conveniently placed near the doorway. You scanned the room as you normally would in a “threatening” environment, toning out Hux’s endless speech.

General Hux lectured a a few feet in front of your spot, slightly off to the side. The stormtroopers stood in the center of the room, all aligned primly and facing their general. You searched for the kindly man who showed you in.

_Oh! There you are. Right there in the corner, right next to— oh._

You quickly swiveled your chair around to face your desk, shaking the dark figure from your mind.

 _He was just standing there… menacingly_.

You’d rather not embarrass yourself in front of Kylo Ren yet again. It was far too soon for another mishap.

The desk you sat at appeared to be a computer terminal. A large screen spanned nearly a third of the desk’s size. There were multiple terminals around the room, yet this one was different. _An older model, maybe._

Upon closer inspection, the machine seemed to be the only one not welded into the flooring. You traced your fingertips across the raised, alphanumeric keys. Dust parted following the pathways you created. _Dust? That’s odd. Surely Hux won’t be too pleased with the janitors once he notices this!_

Amidst the surplus of machinery, the ever so slightly archaic computer, and the location— beside the hangar— you imagined that the room must be for command. _Or, technicians? What’s this old thing doing here? And I swear I could have seen lockers— there were workbenches, I’m sure. That sounds like an armory. Strange. Can’t look now though. Maybe—_

“—And this,” General Hux gestured to his right, “is our chief xenobiologist.”

“Oh,” you squeaked, leaping to your feet. Hugging your clipboard to your chest, you shuffled over to the general.

_Oh Stars. They’re all staring at me. Even—Argh!_

You darted your eyes away. Shifting your weight awkwardly as you spoke, you introduced yourself to the squad as quickly as you could, then returned to your seat.

“She will be accompanying you on your mission. Heed her words carefully, for our doctor knows far more about this planet than anybody we have access to. _Don’t_ take her advice for granted, and remember what I have told you,” Hux continued.

“Good luck, men. I hope to see you all again in one piece. Boarding is in twenty minutes. Prepare yourselves. Dismissed,” he finished, then briskly strode to the door. You hurried after him.

“Wait, sir!”

The general turned toward you with a glare, his hand already resting on the controls. “Yes, Doctor?”

“Aren’t you coming with? Surely I can’t lead all those stormtroopers,” you hissed.

“No, no, I’ll be staying here.”

“Then who—“

“Commander Ren will be leading this mission. Is that a _problem_?” He narrowed his eyes, prompting you to wonder if he had somehow known.

“Oh, no. It’s… fine, sir,” you whispered, glancing quickly behind you.

“Excellent. I’ll leave you to it,” he snapped, stepping out into the hangar and shutting the door behind him rather suddenly.

You whipped around. The stormtroopers were gathering their things and merrily socializing. Kylo Ren was still in the corner, no longer facing you, thankfully. The officer beside him remained.

_Twenty minutes until boarding. Twenty minutes until my descent into Hell begins. Forget the planet, that’s the least of my worries. Hux didn’t even tell me anything about working with Kylo Ren!_

You scanned over the notes you brought on the clipboard. Yet, no matter how many times your eyes ran over the letters, your brain refused to make sense of the words. They were empty, as empty as every fleeting thought that crossed your mind and left just as quick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Hahaha.](https://youtu.be/LPmzRa-sXQs)


	4. Departure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your first ride in the command shuttle could have gone better.

_Okay, okay. You’ve got this._

With a small pack of necessities clutched in your lap, you waited anxiously on board the _Upsilon-_ class command shuttle. Your merry band of explorers would be here soon.

The shuttle was roomy— much larger than you had imagined. It was luxurious, even, much to your surprise. The seats were especially comfy. They were black, smooth, and cool to the touch.

_Leather lining? No. Synth for sure._

It was so different from the usual transports. The ones you usually travelled on were illuminated with the blinding white light you grew to despise. They were bleak, empty, and the atmosphere had always unsettled you. Luckily, the sleek dark machine you became acquainted with today today lacked these unfavorable qualities. You’d dare say the shuttle was welcoming if it weren’t for the temperature. It was awfully cold, and you were beginning to wish you had brought a sweater to wear— for descent at least.

You dressed for the occasion. Boots, thin field pants, a short sleeved shirt, and a weather resistant coat comprised your outfit. The coat wasn’t very cosy since you wanted to avoid sweating to death. It would still provide some amount of warmth, so you slipped it on.

There wasn’t time to rush over to your quarters, so you just had to endure the cold. You hugged your arms around your middle. It’ll be almost relieving when you reach the rainforest. Hux kept the majority of the mission’s details under wraps, but you were allowed enough information to know that the landing site will be around the southern tropic.

“Hello there!”

You were pulled from your thoughts by a soft voice with an accent reminiscent of those of the Core worlds. The pronunciation had an air of regality and prestige, perhaps because the Core was such a place of politics, but this one was less clipped than Hux’s.

You turned toward the voice. It was the officer from earlier. His dark hair was gelled and parted neatly and he wore a shy, friendly smile. “You looked uneasy during the briefing. Are you okay?”

_Great. It was noticeable._

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you sighed, running a hand through your hair. It wasn’t completely a lie. You had significant calmed in the past twenty minutes.

“That’s good to hear. Chief xenobiologist, yeah?”

“That’s right. It sounds important, but it really isn’t,” you chuckled weakly. “There’s no need for many of us in a military installation... Say, I don’t think I caught your name.”

“Mitaka. It’s Lieutenant Mitaka,” he replied quickly, extending his hand to you. You took it. “I was at the top of my class, just like you.”

_Mitaka, of course. I know that name. I expected he’d end up here._

“But I have to get going now, Doctor. I’m on the crew for today, so I’ll be just up there,” he continued, pointing toward the front of the shuttle. “You let me know if you need anything!”

Mitaka hurried off to the bride. It was a brief conversation, but at least you made a new ally.

The stormtroopers filed into the passenger compartment. You watched them as they found their seats. They seemed to congregate around the back end of the cabin. None of them sat near you in the front of the compartment, as if you were the weird kid at the lunch tables back at your academy. You began to wish Mitaka were allowed away from the bridge.

The stormtroopers’ chatter suddenly ceased, the sound of heavy steps upon the durasteel flooring replacing it. They all stood, turning swiftly to face the front of the compartment. You followed their line of sight.

Sure enough, it was the presence of Kylo Ren that had rekindled the stormtroopers’ alertness. His stride long, he crossed the threshold and stood before his men. It was odd to see such a scene given the lack of blasters. Hux really did consider your advice.

The air hung heavy, and once again you felt dwarfed by your angry, dangerous superior. Yet, you felt a sense of security today. Being a vital asset to the mission provided certain benefits— the insurance of your life being one of them, or so you hoped. You took a deep breath.

_Okay. I just need to… avoid eye contact. Stare blankly ahead. Yes._

You stared blankly ahead. Kylo Ren took a seat across from you. He stared ahead. The stormtroopers returned to their seats, though their gossip did not. They stared ahead.

_OH NO. Okay, okay, no more staring blankly ahead._

You darted your eyes to the ground. The ion thrusters of the shuttle began to hum, its buzz uniformly sweeping the entire cabin. It felt and sounded like a cat— like a giant mechanical Millicent. You smiled at the thought. You wished you could at least have Millicent to curl up in your lap. She was always so warm and soft, and a stroke of her fur was just so calming.

The hiss and the rumble of the shuttle’s wings extending followed. This sound was almost reminiscent of a depressed, tone-deaf porg, and you found yourself conjuring a comical image in your mind once again.

The pilot appeared in the compartment doorway. He was an older man with graying hair and a sullen face. Yet, in his deep grey eyes there was a spark— one of a true navigator. You’ve seen it before. It made you feel at ease.

“We will be departing shortly,” he affirmed, looking to Ren, then to you.

You considered flight school once, but there was only so much one could romanticize. Everything happens so fast. To have your life flash before your very eyes, to be living one second and blown to pieces the next, and to bear witness to the same happening to your friends was all too much for you. It took courage to fly— that was something you could never deny. What an honor it would be to pilot such a noble ship as this one.

“You have quite a lovely vessel, sir,” you cooed, dragging your gaze away from the floor and up toward the man.

“Oh, it’s not mine, miss. This is Commander Ren’s shuttle.”

_Oh._

“Well, uh… it's still nice…”

“You needn’t tell _me_ ,” he bellowed, leaving the compartment and you in all of the glory of your own embarrassment.

It was as if the entire galaxy was conspiring against you. Frankly, you were getting tired of getting pushed around by fate. Glancing forward the commander, you chewed your lip and took another deep breath.

“Sir, your sh—“

The ion engines roared and you were thrust violently to your right before you were given the chance to finish your sentence. The shuttle lurched forward, and you and your companions were flung out of the hangar into the reaches of space. The wings screeched as they extended farther outward. You held your breath and braced yourself against your armrest. It was only a matter of seconds before the shuttle would reach its required velocity.

Once again you were thrown toward the back of the cabin. If it weren't for your death grip on the armrest, you would have gone flying out of your seat. Thankfully, your breakfast was rather light. Otherwise, you’d be struggling to hold it down by now.

You didn’t dislike traveling through space. Rather, you normally enjoyed it. Though at times of great anxiety, the stomach-turning rush only enhanced the mood.

The shuttle slammed to a halt and you were then flung to the left. It flew steadily now, but your head was still spinning. You stuck your hands into your pockets, shivering.

The compartment was slowly lit with yellow, natural light. Out the window, the familiar blue planet stood striking and vast. The shuttle glided smoothly into orbit. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor, awkward reader.


	5. Dawn on Garatira

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A breathtaking aerial view of the canopies is perhaps the best antidote to a biologist on the verge of cardiac arrest.
> 
>  
> 
> [Music](https://youtu.be/vENvkkur2_4)

The little dark shuttle swept the lavender horizon, parting the clouds that laced the sky, a single speck on a wide canvas splotched with white. The bright yellow dwarf star Trichent shone only as a sliver peeking behind the broad curve of the planet, painting streaks of gold across the grand canopies. Warmth flooded throughout the cabin.

You shed your coat and let the light striking the windows wash over your heat deprived body. It felt amazing to feel natural light again, to see a sunrise and experience the gradual temperature fluctuations. You stood for a better view. Through the window, you could see green for miles and miles. Turquoise rivers and tributaries split the dense forests, branching in every which direction like immense blue blood vessels.

Gradients of saturated reds and oranges radiated from Trichent which faded into the deep purple that remained from the night cycle. The treetops were increasing in visibility with each passing minute, and you began to guess at each of their species. It was difficult and rather pointless— the details remained obscured from both the darkness and the distance— but you were far too excited to care.

_Oh, those are beautiful! Like they were done in watercolor. Kind of a funny shape… Spenoapex phyllopicta? I think. And those great big ones! Hmm… The patch over there is much more vibrant than the others. But those by the riverbanks… Much greener. All of them reach out so widely though, so it’s probably Platyramus. Probably home to lots of wildlife. Maybe the yellow-green ones are P. tinctorius, while the mixed bag ones are P. variabilis. Yeah, that sounds right, just about…_

The shuttle approached a long gash in the otherwise flat, dense, and very green land. You plopped back into your seat, smiling wide as you jotted down your thoughts. The endless expanses of trees had been more than successful at quelling your apprehension.

The rumble of retracting wings increased in audibility as the shuttle decelerated. Bounding gently off of each air current, it coasted steadily downward. As the sublight ion engines powered down, a soft hiss was emitted. The shuttle met the ground with a rustle and a jolt, then all was still.

The windows had already begun to fog over with condensation from the great humidity. It obscured the landing area and only an expected green haze could be seen through the transparisteel. Yet, the cabin remained chilled.

“We are set to disembark, Commander,” the pilot said, standing with his arms crossed behind him. You hadn’t even noticed him enter the compartment.

“Good.”

The unfamiliar booming voice belonged to none other than Kylo Ren. It was one of the few times you had ever heard him speak, and the first time you had ever heard him speak in person. It was deep and heavily amplified, and you could only imagine what it really sounded like. You suddenly realized your close proximity to the Force-user, a surge of anxiety quickly bubbling over. The hypnotic wonder of a foreign planet had come and gone.

He stood. “Survey the perimeter, Doctor. Be quick.”

You froze. He had acknowledged you directly.

 _And oh, Maker, He’s looking straight_ at _me too!_

There was no way to less than graciously brush this encounter off as you did before. It was inevitable that you’d have at least one exchange of words, after all.

“Okay. I mean— yes! Yes sir. Right away!” You replied, much louder than intended. Frantically knotting your coat around your waste and treading carefully out the doorway, to the right, and toward the ramp.

Four streams of a gas you couldn’t quite identify poured from small overhead ports on the belly of the shuttle. They flowed in small bursts, creating a cloud at your feet. You imagined it made for excellent dramatic effect, besides whatever their true purpose was. You smiled at the thought that Kylo Ren had them installed purely for aesthetic. Doubtfully so, but you still entertained the idea. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arrival, at last. The grand adventure awaits, dear Reader!


	6. None of Your Damn Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You scout the area, just as Kylo Ren had ordered.
> 
> [Music](https://youtu.be/0pWP3ZguKec)

_You‘ve got to be kidding me. What is WRONG with you? “Okay”? “Yes yes yes sir”! Damnit! What’s wrong with me?_

You cursed yourself multiple times as you shuffled around the shuttle. How your otherwise perfect composure faltered at even the smallest discomfort baffled you.

Your first steps had been wobbly and uncertain, even more so as you made contact with the new environment. The adrenaline was still keeping you on edge. A blast of humid, sweltering air upon walking down the ramp initially took you aback. Then, it was the sudden weight. With no artificial gravity to keep you steady, the greater gravitational pull generated by Garatira’s mass weighed you down significantly. It took nearly twice the normal effort to move, and your stress and exhaustion only magnified the effects.

The ground was firm but slippery nonetheless, and your boots squelched with each stride. Rhythmic squawking, faint chirping, and a continuous buzzing echoed throughout the rainforest. Surrounding you were trees, trees, and more trees. There were dark greens, light greens, browns, and fruits and flowers of every color. Color and life were things you had missed, and although it was muggy, you could appreciate the atmosphere too. Each breath of fresh air was not only refreshing, but relieving as well. It was easy to force yourself to take slow, deep breaths now. Something as simple as air made such a great difference. You never experienced crisp, clean air in either of your offices, your laboratories, nor your room.

Garatira quickly grew on you. Though you were still angry and very embarrassed, your problems could be shoved to the back of your mind while you explored the landing site. Staring up, you could see huge, outreaching branches. Individual rays of light shone through the spaces in between, casting kaleidoscopic patterns onto the rainforest floor. You thought of them as giant hands, hovering over you and the shuttle, shielding you and protecting you from the rest of the universe.

_Or, a terrible sunburn._

You found a rather large stick jotting out from underneath the shuttle. It was coarse and bumpy, and damp to the touch. Taking it, you shuffled across the perimeter of the clearing. The undergrowth was thick, and you had to take larger, concise steps as you traversed the area.

Stick in hand, you gently rustled the surrounding vegetation. The tangled vines that drifted down from the canopied yielded nothing. A few small animals scurried from the ground brush when you whacked it, but fled so quickly that you couldn’t get a good look at them. The first encounter with the native fauna was rather anticlimactic. You moved on, slightly disappointed.

After circling the landing site and the wilds slightly beyond it without complication, you figured it was just about time to check in at the shuttle.

_But first…_

You walked to the widest tree stump you could find. Multitudes of green tendrils hung from its skyward branches. You tugged at the closest vine. It didn’t budge. Following its path, you could see that the vine was clearly entangled with the rest of the large plant. Wrapping the end of the vine around your dominant hand and slipping the top of your beating stick into your boot, you heaved yourself up so you were perpendicular to the trunk. Gritting your teeth, you planted foot after foot onto the side of the trunk, grasping at more of the vine as you made your way up. You lugged your tired body over the most stable looking branch. You let yourself lay limp on your stomach for a minute. The branch wasn’t exactly comfortable, but you took what you had.

_What I would do to sneak a tree into my room. Maybe I can find a smaller one while I’m here. It would make the air so much cleaner, so much fresher. Not sure what I’d do once it got big... Wouldn’t it be nice to be a tree?_

You sighed, stroking the rippled bark with both of your palms. The texture was soothing.

_I’d have xylem instead of veins… it’d deliver my water from my roots up. Maybe I’d live to be a hundred…_

You jolted back up. Now was not the time to be daydreaming. There was one last thing you still needed to do. Still gripping your vine for safety, as the surfaces were slick with moisture, you pulled yourself up onto the next branch— a slightly higher one.

You grew in confidence, moving up from one branch to another. Where the branches became thin and cluttered, you figured meant you nearing the top. You passed the branches where your vine was attached, so now as you continued climbing, your vine was pulled farther upward. It would serve as a makeshift bungee cord in the event of any accidents.

You reached the top, or rather, the point in which you could no longer balance on the now leafy twigs. Much to your expectations, your tree towered over the others.

There were trees of all kinds as far as the eye could see. You wished you could explore and identify them all, but alas, you hadn’t the time. Hundreds of fluffy clouds coated the canopies, forming a opaque white layer between the baby blue sky and the green treetops. In the distance, you could see the deep scar that divided them. It wasn’t as breathtaking as your view from the shuttle, but it was certainly something to look out across the horizon and see it all in person. Trichent was much higher now too, and its light was blistering hot against your exposed skin.

You looked down at the leaves you had bunched in in your hands. They had wavy, lobed edges, and different brilliant shades of green were splashed across the adaxial of the leaf. The abaxial was a duller olive shade. You smiled.

_Like a painting. S. phyllopicta._

The buzzing you had heard from earlier had grown louder. You felt something faintly brush your shoulder. You looked to your left where your eyes met with tiny, dewdrop shaped ones. It was small flying insect that had decided that your skin was a comfortable resting spot. It had a pretty iridescent ultramarine carapace. It had plumose antennae that twitched with each movement of the head. It— she rather, you concluded, was a female due to her proportionally large abdomen. Her mandibles and were serrated and also proportionally large, but neither of you would make it problem unless there has to be.

You gently picked her up by the thorax, where the base of her wings met the tergal plates, and placed her onto a leaf. “Off you go, little friend. I’m just about done here,” you cooed.

You made your way down from your tree. Getting down was much easier than climbing up. You were able to drop from branch to branch, albeit while you still hugged the trunk and clinged to your vine. As you neared the bottom of the tree, you mustered enough confidence to let go of the trunk and slide down your vine to the next close by branch.

Thirty feet from the floor, you lost your footing and slipped from the branch you had meant to land on. Your heart sank and you found yourself lashing your arms about for something to brace your fall, twigs whacking you in the face as you fell.

_Wait! THE VINE!_

It was still wrapped around your hand. You shook yourself free of its hold, now clutching it with both hands and your legs. Had it been still winded on you as you fell, your arm would have surely been yanked out of its socket. You slid mercilessly down, swearing each time a part of the tree smacked you. At eight feet, you let yourself from from the vine, then immediately regretted your decision as the shock of the impact surged up through your feet and ankles.

“Aw shit,” you hissed, grabbing at your legs and breathing heavily. Your landing was short of graceful. The seething pain didn’t take long to wear off, but the cuts and scrapes from your descent via vine still stung.

A familiar buzzing faded into earshot. A cloud of blue shot past you, and you spun on the heel in an attempt to follow it. Your little blue friend hovered only a few inches from your nose when you turned.

“You saw all that didn’t you? Silly thing.”

You shooed the swarm of insects beside her. “And I see you brought your buddies too? Very funny.”

The insects buzzed loudly in unison.

“Say, I can’t believe you guys do so well in this weather. I’d imagine flying would be hard,” you said, glancing at a hygrometer-thermometer you fished out of your pocket. “Stars, ninety degrees, and ninety-five percent humidity!”

You waved at the flying insects, then hurried back up the ramp of the command shuttle. The gust of chilly air immediately sent goosebumps across your skin. The sudden temperature change made you very nauseated, and the pinprick tingles that overcome your extremities were irritating to say the least.

You checked in at the bridge first. The officers stood and exchanged nervous glances as you approached them.

“I’m back,” you breathed.

The pilot cleared his throat. “Welcome… back, Doctor.”

His expression was difficult to read. “Thanks.”

Lieutenant Mitaka leaned over to you and whispered, “What happened to…?”

He gestured to your frazzled hair, then then to scrapes on your arms. “And why is there a stick in your boot?”

“Well Lieutenant,” you smiled, then whispered also leaning in. “None of your damn business.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you so much for 100+ kudos! I’m touched. I hope you all are having happy holidays!


	7. An Issue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mission is ready to begin, but these is just one more matter to address.

“One point nineteen Gs at surface. Ground’s a bit slippery, but firm enough. So… exercise caution. Pretty hot, pretty humid. Wildlife is friendly so far— that’s good. Looks like we’re all set.”

You scribbled down your final observations from the landing site. Everything was going as according to planned.

A clipboard was rather archaic, you had to admit, but it was far more reliable and practical for a mission like this. Electronics were greatly susceptible to damage, not to mention costly to replace. You rather enjoyed pen and parchment to use for notes, besides. It was fun to think of yourself as an old-time explorer— back when the Galaxy was still young, and technology was scarce.

How amazing it would be to experience it all for the first time. The night sky was but a stranger, nevermind its inhabitants. To glide amongst the stars, beholding the wonders of spaceflight as a pioneer on new horizons.

You stopped your pacing to glance up from your clipboard. Your eyes met Kylo Ren’s visor, and you began to nervously tap your pen subconsciously. “So… ready when you are?”

He stood and you shuffled backward immediately. He took took another step toward you in accommodation. You stepped back also, jumping slightly when your calves met the cold edge of the seats.

“Stop.”

His gloved hand was on your shoulder, grip firm but just short of threatening. You inhaled sharply as your heart rate suddenly surged. There was little to do to quell your anxiety. As much as you would have liked to abscond, at that moment you physically could not.

“Sorry,” you squeaked, blood rushing rapidly to your face.

The commander must have sensed how uncomfortable you had become, as his arm quickly dropped back to his side. His gaze settled at the floor. “Now. Let’s go now.”

A stormtrooper appeared at your side. “Sir,” he said, obviously not addressing you. Meekly, you slunk down into the seat behind you. It was a surprise that your legs hadn’t given out yet, especially given your fall from earlier.

“Prepare yourselves. Meet me outside,” the black-robed man ordered. The stormtrooper nodded.

“Yes sir,” he replied promptly, then returned to his squad. After a seemingly brief discussion, the stormtroopers herded themselves out of the compartment and down to the lower deck.

Thus, you were left all alone with Kylo Ren. Backing away, he allowed you your own space again, much to your relief. He stood there silently for a few moments, attention focused on the fogged over window.

“Come.”

You looked up. Kylo Ren was already halfway through the passenger compartment threshold. You were just about ready to follow him, when it struck you.

“Wait— we uh,” you stammered, trying to find the appropriate thing to say. He stopped, peering over his shoulder, waiting for you to continue.

“Yes?”

“We might have an… _issue_.” With your palms facing toward yourself, you gestured up and down. “Our spot on the heat index. It’s not ideal for um, _that_. Quite dangerous, actually.”

You waved your hand shyly at his robes. Warmth flooded your cheeks and you bit your lip. Your eyes wandered across the dark shuttle interior. “Same thing goes for the stormtroopers…”

Kylo Ren turned fully and approached you as he did before. You stood to face him. He left only a foot or so between himself and you.

“You want me to take off my clothes,” the commander retorted, with a hint of amusement in his tone.

Your heart dropped to your stomach.  
  
“No! I guess— but for safety! I mean—“ you interjected, a jumble of panic-laced words flowing from your mouth.

A soft hiss interrupted your clumsy rambling. Kylo Ren pulled his helmet from his head, setting it beside your coat. You had tossed there earlier, when you got back from your tree fiasco.

You were not sure what you were expecting, but it wasn’t _that_.

The first thing to catch your attention was his eyes. They were a deep amber hue; it reminded you of Vashkan apidactyls’ honey. You’d never forget the one colony you were blessed to witness, and the subsequent delicacies it brought. Such a comparison was fitting, you realized. The commander’s gaze was sharp and striking, but oh so intriguing— also not unlike the apidactyl. The New Republic has tried and failed in the eradication of the species. You protested the efforts fervently— sure, the species was venomous and territorial, but Vashka was their home. The Republic had no right to infringe upon it.

You couldn’t deny that the huge insects were dangerous, but that was beside the point. All things are potentially dangerous to some extent. The Vashkan apidactyls felt threatened, and so they responded accordingly. It angered you that no one could understand that, and you were angered even more so to see, what were beautiful creatures to you, slaughtered en masse. The Republic reacted in fear, and so did the apidactyls, you supposed. If only they didn’t fear things as you did— maybe then there’d be less suffering.

Next, you noticed his hair. The gorgeous raven locks were styled with such perfection, and you wondered how they’d stay so immaculate underneath his helmet. It offered a stark contrast to his fair skin— which was otherwise impeccable in complexion if not for his dark freckles. His face was long and refined like that of a prince, his nose strong, and his lips were full and pink, upturned at the corners ever so slightly, and—

_Oh, dear Maker._

“That can be arranged,” he purred, the unmodulated voice both deep and surprisingly smooth. His piercing stare lingered, which sent your pulse skyrocketing. You broke the eye contact, shivering. It didn’t help that the shuttle was chilly.

With that, he disappeared from the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts once more.

“I guess I’ll just wait outside, then…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, Reader-Chan. You’ve known these people for less than twenty-four hours, and you’re already demanding for them to undress?


	8. Into the Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mission was never going to be easy, but the least you could do was to try to be nice.
> 
>  
> 
> [Music](https://youtu.be/89AM9vjNV3M)

The toppled log you sat atop offered an unusually comfortable spot for resting. A thick, tangled layer of fruticose lichen coated its side, which conveniently served as a cushion of sorts.

“Soft little epiphyte,” you cooed, running your hands through the plush green tresses. It was rather soothing, just sitting there— especially after the emotional rollercoaster the past few hours had been. To think of it, how much excitement had been fit into the day so far was astonishing. The “mission” hadn’t even begun yet. Still, nobody had informed you of what exactly the search was for, and all you knew was that the area in which the trees had been parted unnaturally was a point of interest. Hux has been incredibly vague, much to your dismay. Maybe you could get some answers out of Kylo Ren.

_Maybe…_

You shuddered at the thought. As much as you tried focusing on the exotic arthropods— the stout furry grub _L. erioalbus_ burrowing in the earth, a spiny _L. melanops_ in defense position with legs held high, and of course your blue flying friends who fed happily on round burgundy fruits that hung from shrubs— your mind continued to wander back to your most recent encounter with the commander. Given that your ridiculous mental raving incident occurred only a few days ago, the entirety of the situation was ungainly, to say the least.

It was as if the entire assignment had been cursed. One predicament after another seemed to arise. Everyone on the shuttle— and likely a significant portion of First Order as well— was depending on you, for starters. You weren’t sure what exactly you were searching for. The planet was beautiful, but unfamiliar and questionable— which was why you’d been dragged into this. Looks can be deceiving, in many ways as you’ve learned. The friendliest soul with which you had only just been acquainted wouldn’t be accompanying you by the looks of things. Instead, you’d be under the command of the intimidating, yet so surprisingly dashing Kylo Ren.

Your stormtroopers had now appeared from the shuttle. Each was stripped of their armor, now clothed only in their plain black uniforms. They seemed almost like ordinary civilians. You couldn’t have guessed their affliction with the First Order if you had only met them now. It was at that moment when you began to regret tuning out Hux during his preflight briefing. You could have sworn you heard him mention the stormtroopers’ individual ID designations at some point, though you weren’t paying enough attention to remember them. Now that you had faces— actual people— to those names, you wished you had. Perhaps that was what made combat much easier. The emotions were obscured, and their individuality, minimal. It was very easy to dehumanize someone when their face was perpetually hidden behind a mask.

It made you feel a pang of guilt. You did the same to Kylo Ren even, your stress building whenever he was in the same vicinity. It was wrong of you to allow yourself to become so worked up, even when you knew nothing of his true appearance. As it turned out, he was just another human, not too alarmingly foreign to you.

_Yes, a human. Just a human. Albeit, a rather… attractive one. Damnit. Okay, maybe I do have a legitimate reason to be nervous around him._

You entangled your fingers with the plush plant life. The wandering stormtroopers halted and aligned themselves. You turned your gaze to the shuttle ramp.

_Speak of the devil._

You thought you couldn’t be any more taken aback on this trip. Out of the shuttle marched Kylo Ren, but differently than you had ever seen him before. Instead of his usual attire of endless layers covering him from head to toe, he dressed down appropriately for the climate. He wore the same clothing from the waist down, but his surcoat and tunic were replaced with a sleeveless black shirt. It didn’t leave much to the imagination, to say the least. How built he must have been had never crossed your mind before. That was one less embarrassing thing to wonder loudly about. Now you knew how cute little freckles dotted his pale, sinewy arms and his broad shoulders, and how his long dark hair framed his pretty, pretty face.

_Well, shit._

“Doctor,” he called as he came over. You sat up rigidly on the log, a handful of tangled lichen strands clenched nervously in your fists.

“Yes, commander?” You replied slowly, looking to meet his gaze for a moment, then shifted it back to the grub that had now submerged himself in soil, ruining his striking white fur. He likely did this as a strategy to avoid being hunted. And he sure did do a good job— all that was left of the grub was a lump in the ground. How you wished to be that shy, undercover grub.

“You may lead us now,” he told you, surprisingly patient with your flightiness. You slid off the log, landing unsteadily on the slippery, muddy ground. Dull pain constricted your ankles. A reminder of your tree fiasco. Hopefully nobody would notice your discomfort.

The path that led Northeast toward what appeared to the a crash site was thick with vegetation. It would make the journey harder, but at least you would stay farther away from any bodies of water and potential sinking patches, as the thickest congregation of plant life appeared to grow inland— at least from what you could concur from the aerial view and the probe you had sent down many standard months ago.

“This way,” you said, trudging onward with a smidge of confidence. Carefully, you stepped over each twisted root, each considerably large piece of fallen foliage, and each cluster of stubborn underbrush. Kylo Ren was sure to stay within close proximity to you. However, he and the troopers seemed to have a much harder time navigating the dense forest than you did. For one, you were considerably smaller. You could easily duck under low hanging vines and branches. You could easily maneuver the tight spaces between trees and brush, and slip past roadblocks with an air of finesse.

Kylo Ren certainly didn’t seem very intimidating whenever he stumbled over a log or was whacked in the face with a stray tree branch. Sometimes you struggled to resist the urge to snicker at his clumsiness. That made two of you. You glanced back periodically, making sure you hadn’t left your “friends” behind.

As you ventured deeper into the forest, the buzzing that encompasses the path grew louder. Among the sound of rustling leaves and insects was a series of squawks. You could only imagine who they belonged to. Your probe hadn’t been too helpful in fauna identification. After you had lost contact with it, only a portion of the data collected was salvageable.

One stray branch hit the commands particularly hard. He hissed as the prickly tendrils grazed his shoulder and his cheek. You whipped around and hurried over to him.

“Oh, Commander— are you alright?”

Kylo responded with only a grunt as he cupped the side of his face. Instead, he shuffled on grumpily past you. He wasn’t in the mood to talk, evidently.

_Well, sorry for trying to be nice._

You tromped ahead quickly, reprising your role as trailblazer. Eventually, the silence became unbearable. If Kylo Ren wouldn't talk, and the stormtroopers wouldn’t dare, you were naturally obliged to attempt to bring an end to the tension.

“This is probably among the most humid and warm planets you all have been to,” you called to your team. “Well, we can thank Trichent for the heat— we’re a bit under a hundred million miles away from her! It’s a golden zone for life. G dwarf stars are pretty cool— not _literally,_ mind you. Trichent is constantly converting hydrogen to helium!”

_I mean, I think that’s pretty cool..._

You glanced back again and caught sight of one of the troopers smiling briefly at your impromptu lecture. You had earned the attention of one— now to capture the entire audience.

“Garatira is absolutely _blooming_ with life. Some of it is not so friendly, so that’s why I’m here. Does anyone know what biome this is?”

Your question was met with silence— possibly fear of speaking out of line. Kylo Ren’s focus appeared somewhere else entirely as his large frame was constantly battered by the environment. He shouldn’t be too bothered by banter between you and the stormtroopers. You looked back at them, offering a reassuring smile.

“Class M rainforest planet with what seems like a regular magnetosphere and slightly higher gravity than usual,” said the smallest ashen-haired one who had smiled at you. She was the only one to acknowledge you and your otherwise futile efforts. You would remember that.

“You’re quite the overachiever— and you’re absolutely right. So be careful. Slipping will hurt more than usual,” you chuckled weakly, remembering the stiffness in your ankles. You slowed and allowed for your potential friend to walk beside you.

“Yes ma’am,” she replied curtly, then drew nearer. “Say, what’s this monster that General Hux was worried about? He wouldn’t say much,” she whispered to you.

You eyed the commander who was now up ahead, clearly frustrated but also forced to navigate cautiously through the forest. He wasn’t listening, it seemed.

“Well, hopefully it won’t be anything to worry about. Large, semi-ambitious ectotherms… a bit like dewbacks, but not domesticated. They’re very dangerous and very abundant. I don’t think I would have to be here if it weren’t for them.”

The stormtrooper’s eyes widened almost comically. “Oh. I… see why he didn’t tell us. We all objectected quietly about leaving our armor behind. Guess it’s good they don’t know. But you’re the doctor. You know best,” she said wearily, wiping beads of sweat from her forehead. Though she expressed her trust, her doubts were clear. At least the others wouldn’t know.

The others, you found, had straggled far behind. Had they kept their armor, there would have been some fainters by now. Climbing carefully up a moss-ridden log, you spotted a small, peaceful clearing through the hanging creepers. You looked back to Kylo Ren, who had hidden himself behind a tree. He looked absolutely exhausted. He heaved, nursing the cuts on his arms, while leaning weakly against the trunk.

It was about time to give everybody a break, you figured, and the clearing appeared to be a fine spot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me for my three month long hiatus. I can only write this fic when I’m really in my mood for it. I invite you to pester me relentlessly if you would like me to update quicker. Evidently, it is highly motivating.


	9. A Lesson in the Handling of Inverts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Invertebrate handling is a delicate process. But frankly, you’d feel much more comfortable touching a thousand Space Bees than the commander just once.

  
“Over here!”

After finding a suitable log, you plopped down and let your legs dangle off the edge. The stormtroopers proceeded to find their own respective resting places around the clearing.

It was a rather spacious area, and relatively peaceful as well. The ground was oddly firm in comparison to the rest of the soil in the forest. Thus, few plants were able to sprout. Large, mossy rocks and smaller damp logs lined the perimeter and, more sparsely, scattered themselves within the clearing itself. Trichent shone clearly above, where all the trees’ canopies parted, but directly struck few objects, for the shadows cast by the canopies were far too great.

A buzz filled your ears as you watched Kylo Ren join the last of the troopers searching for a comfortable seat. He looked far different than he had initially—- his glorious and once impeccable hair was now utterly disheveled, sticking to his damp forehead. His full lips remained parted as he huffed with each step. You caught your hand which had instinctively wandered to your bag.

While the commander boasted a very painful sunburn on his shoulders and his face, you sincerely doubted he’d accept your gift of sunscreen. You shifted in your place when your eyes began to wander. His dark shirt stuck to his frame from the humidity and sweat, emphasizing each curve and contour.

You shook your head, and thought back to the buzzing. If Kylo Ren’s physique hadn’t distracted you, you would have realized the cloud of navy that followed closely behind him. It was your blue fruit bugs, and they had decided to harass Ren.

Now it was clear why he was walking so quickly despite his exhaustion. He strode quickly by as the insects remained in hot pursuit. You never thought you’d see the day Kylo Ren, Jedi Killer, would run away from a bunch of measly bugs. Clearly he didn’t want this known to all either as he took a seat on a rock nearby and shot you a look that quite obviously screamed for help.

You winced when he smacked a blue bug that landed on his forearm. He hissed and rubbed at the residue it left. Another landed at his knee, and you nearly lept to your feet.

“Commander,” you urged, taking a step forward. “Please don’t kill the insects.”

_They’re important to the biodiversity of this ecosystem_ , you wanted to say.

He glared at you and wiped his reddened hand onto his pants. “What am I supposed to do?”

“You’re slapping concentrated formic acid directly onto your skin— that’s why it hurts,” you continued, drawing hesitantly closer to him. “Here, let me...”

You dropped to your knees, then slowly brought your hands near the big. With a finger, you tapped gently at the insect’s shiny blue backside, avoiding eye contact with Kylo Ren while doing so. You held your breath as you lightly laid your hand in front of the insect— not because you were worried about the insect itself. Your hand was on the commander’s thigh and it was both absolutely necessary and absolutely distressing to you. He tensed underneath your touch.

Once the blue bug crawled onto your hand, you immediately reeled away, relieving both of you of the less than comfortable situation. “There,” you stammered, scritching nervously at his ribbed thorax. The bug purred in gratitude.

“Why don’t they hurt you?”

You looked up, meeting the commander’s now curious gaze. To your surprise, it was drained of any former unwarranted hostility. “What?”

“The mandibles, the stinger. Why?”

You rose to your feet, then blew at the bug’s wings. They flickered before he took flight back into the forest. You took that time to formulate an adequate response.

“You’re Force-sensitive, and you could choke me to death at any time, whenever you wanted. But you don’t. Why?”

His gaze was dark and intense as he looked you over. “Why would I,” he said softly. It was a great contrast to his expression.

“Exactly.” You found yourself speaking just above a whisper.

Since your time here, it was the first moment where Kylo Ren had shown some sort of interest in not only the environment, but you as well. He continued to stare at you with the same look. You shifted your weight from leg to leg, then broke your gaze.

“Did you know an abundance of lactic acid in the skin of some people attract hematophagic insects?”

You said it as you looked off between the trees, as if it weren’t even him you were speaking to. You simply couldn’t maintain eye contact with him for so long.

“No,” he said, “I didn’t know that.”

You smiled to yourself, then flicked your focus back to the commander for a moment.

“Well… now you do!”

You hurried back to your log and took a deep breath before hopping back onto it. Your eyes traced idle circles as the cloud of blue regrouped and swerved into the treetops. The little creatures were more like birds than bugs with the way that they flocked and maintained such a persistent curiosity for the human visitors. Hopefully they wouldn’t cause any more trouble. Their absence left only the rustle of the vegetation and the occasional cheep and grumble of an unknown animal.

“Is that why they were after me?”

You glanced to the side. It appeared that Kylo Ren actually wanted to continue the conversation. Typically, you’d be happy to babble on about things like this to Hux, to the stormtroopers, even to your poor assistants and your lab partners back at the academy. Just not to Kylo Ren. Definitely not.

But you would have to try. “No, actually. Those eat fruit only. It’s why they have those big jaws. Pretty friendly, otherwise,” you replied, matter-of-factly. “Maybe you just smell good to them.”

“Really,” he said, more like a statement and less like a question. “I’m flattered.”

You wondered he he managed a straight face while having such a ridiculous exchange. Evidently, you were fairly entertaining, and this time not in a relatively negative way. It was something of a first to you. The commander most likely didn’t get much of an opportunity to be amused by idle, yet friendly banter either.

“They listen to you, don’t they,” he added on curtly after you failed to respond.

It was odd, you had to admit. Typically, a discussion would end right there— when your social ineptitude caught you by the arm and you were left without another word to say that would encourage more talk. The last you would expect to persist after you had given up was Commander Ren.

“Usually. I just know how to handle invertebrates. That’s all,” you shrugged. There was no magic to it. Each organism is slightly different, but they’re all the same when it comes down to it. A fair mixture of empathy and analytical skill was perhaps most important in understanding them in the greatest sense.

“Did they teach you that at the academy?”

_Pfffft._

“Not really, no. I just figured it out on my own,” you mumbled, glossing over thoughts of earlier years. “I’ll show you again if you want. Just not now. I don’t know where they all went.”

“I scared them,” he mused, looking off in the direction the insects had fled.

“Yeah, I think so. But they’ll be back, I bet.”

You tapped your heels against the log absentmindedly. This time, Kylo Ren didn’t seem to have a proper response. Again, silence lingered between the two of you.

“We’d better get going soon,” you said abruptly, sliding off your log. The stormtroopers had caught their breath, and you would rather get back to the shuttle before dark.

“I think so too,” the commander agreed, standing. He tugged the bottom of his shit down, as it had rode up as he was resting. You shifted your gaze away quickly.

“Let me get some soil samples, then we’ll go,” you trailed off, rummaging around in the cluttered hellscape that was the contents of your bag. You bit your lip as your fingers met with a familiar container.

“By the way, I have some sunscreen if you need it,” You murmured, hoping he wouldn’t take offense to your offer.

“Sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reader-chan is really nailing the baseball metaphor. Props if you caught the extremely subtle references that are hardly references at all. There’ll be lots of larger references later. If you catch them... I don’t know, I’ll give you a cookie.


	10. Soil Samples of a Cosmic Being

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the cheeky fellow who is responsible for the perpetual chirping throughout Garatira’s forests reveals himself.
> 
>  
> 
> [Music](https://youtu.be/5W1KdR9Dhbc)

  
In your bag’s front pouch, you had slipped several small vials through their designated compartments. Admittedly, geology was never particularly a strong suit of yours, but the soil composition itself was not of your concern. You were searching for microorganisms likely present within it.

It was so easy for any other nature enthusiast, and even many scientists as well, to be absolutely swept away by the wonders, big and exciting, of a new environment. All the wildlife, predator and prey, multicellular and highly complex, were always a treat. Fungi, all sorts of plants, and every other eukaryote off the top of your head have been and always will be grand showstoppers.

This reaction is only natural. All of these organisms are one in the same in terms of presentation. Eukaryotes are generally larger than any other kind of life. One can reach out and touch it. This life is real because it looks real and feels real. You could even say one begins to form a sort of kinship with even the most bizarre and foreign eukaryotic flora and fauna simply because it is something easily comprehensible in comparison to whatever invisible creatures live their lives in your intestines or on the rim of your champagne glass.

That’s not to say non-eukaryotes cannot be felt. The few instances they’ve formed a multicellular units were less than impressive, to be frank. It seemed to you that they were only skilled at forming shapeless blobs and the such. Nothing as flashy and entertaining as a Perlote tree or even a somewhat humble amoeba.

Rarely do the trillions upon trillions upon trillions of unicellular, prokaryotic organisms receive the admiration they deserve, for they are responsible for maintaining several of the precious balances that sustain entire planets. Dead things decompose with the aid of these tiny helpers. Food can be digested. Soil can become rich so plant life can thrive. The cycling of elements becoming relatively endless.

Without them, everything would die. It was rather poetic— how desperately a world would depend upon what seemed like the most insignificant of life forms. The ones nobody appreciated, simply because they could not be seen without the aid of science. And what a silly prospect it may sound to the ignorant— minuscule things that are responsible for so many of the inner workings of the ecosystem and ourselves alike.

Hundreds of thousands of tiny creatures thrived the vials which held soil, dew drops, and a sliver of root respectively. It was fascinating how, just in your bag, you carried entire civilizations.

_Maybe we’re just a tiny speck in some cosmic being’s soil sample._

You smiled at the thought. People find themselves so important. Even the commander himself, a leader of a major military junta, is ultimately irrelevant in the grand scheme of the universe. This fact was both comforting and terrifying depending on the circumstances. It made problems much smaller than they seemed to you. Though, on the other hand, it removed significance from almost everything. There is no purpose, no point. You tried not to veer to the latter mindset.

As you walked, contemplating these silly questions and admiring the scenery, you found Commander Ren inching closer. You slowed to allow him to catch up with your quick maneuvering through the forest.

Admittedly, he was far less intimidating than before. Before the wasp incident, that was. He too appeared more relaxed in the environment, much to your relief.

“I looked in your file.”

You took a deep breath. Here comes another conversation. “Oh?”

Kylo Ren was just short of an arm’s length beside you. He looked you with interest even as you broke eye contact over and over. “I never heard of your home planet. What was its name again?”

“Hefallia,” you sighed, curtly. A colorful blur dashed through the lower canopy, catching your eye.

“Is it anything like this planet?” He pushed further, yet hesitantly, taking note of your disheartened reply.

You stopped, trailing your stick though the leaves which the creature had dove into. At the end of the stick, you felt something soft and squishy. You withdrew the stick immediately.

“Nope,” you said, parting the brush gently with both hands. You reached in, fingers meeting with a round downy body. “Look what we’ve got here.”

The commander hovered over you as you lifted the plump bird from the juvenile tree. His little head twitched around in shock, cheeping rapidly. You held completely still, your eyes averted while still maintaining attention on the round male. His wide, blood orange eyes looked to you, then to Kylo Ren, and back to you. His expression began to soften as you felt his pulse slow in your palms. The wild green crest that protruded from his head slowly collapsed, and he nipped softly at your finger with his serrated vermillion beak.

The animal was stunning. He was a rainbow of a bird, gradients of blue and violet coloring his cheeks, and a shapeless peach colored wattle hanging from his chin. The rest of his body was a warm butterscotch stained with a lattice pattern of black on his folded wings and back. Two dark, scaly feet shot out from his off-white underbelly, the claws digging into your hands for balance.

For something that had never seen a human in the flesh before— or so you assumed— the round birdie was surprisingly quick to trust. Most creatures were when they have never yet experienced vile injustices. A sense of purity is preserved.

The bird was nothing particularly unique, but the morphology was certainly aesthetically pleasing, and a bit of documentation wouldn’t hurt. A short paper would do him the admiration he deserves. Your artistic skill wouldn’t fully emulate the avian’s elegance, but you had luckily remembered to pack a cam in your bag.

A cam, which you couldn’t reach without a free hand to search for it. Both of your hands were currently preoccupied with a fat bird whose squishy body seemed to overflow from the edges of your palms.

  
“Here,” You blurted suddenly, shoving the bird to Kylo Ren. “Hold him for a minute.”

The commander subtly lurched away from your offer. He eyed the feathery mass with suspicion before doing the same with you. “Why?”

“I need to record at least some data on the native wildlife here,” you insisted, stepping closer. “ _Here_.”

He held out his palms apprehensively as you plopped the bird into them. The bird shifted and grumbled with uncertainty as he was handed off to the less preferable human.

Once you were birdless, you searched your bag for your cam, promptly pulling it from its own separate case. It started up at once, the desired focus achieved after fiddling with the controls.

When the commander realized what you were doing, he held the bird out away from his body. Again, he was subtle, but not subtle enough for you to ignore his behavior. He did not want to be in your picture, and that was completely understandable.

The fearsome Kylo Ren, stripped of his usual attire, stared at you through the lens of your cam. His tired, yet still fairly intense gaze half-obscured by the dark locks that were strewn across his forehead and cheeks. Clutched in his hands, a fluffy multicolored bird whose head would twitch in an unpredictable direction every so often.

If anything, this trip was good for moments as unpredictable and uncanny as the twitching of the bird’s purple head. As much as the commander tried, he wouldn’t escape the field of view. You captured several angles of the bird— close ups of his extended wings, face, and feet included.

Stuffing the cam away, you then plucked him out of the commander’s grasp and returned him to his branch. You pocketed loose, downy feathers that the bird left in your hands. You would look at them later when writing a report for the new species.

“Thank you,” you smiled as you both watched the bird shuffled back into the lush foliage that comprised his home. Your thanks were somewhat ambiguous, you found, and Kylo Ren must have felt similarly, as he did not respond. He and the bird were to thank, you deduced. The ambiguity only left room for speculation, and it was rather notable to observe the commander’s conclusion— that you were speaking to the bird, of course, and not him.

He was no longer in sight, and the troopers, you noticed, had grown impatient. “We should keep moving,” you said, abruptly turning away from the tree into which the bird had disappeared. The commander nodded and turned as well. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little birdie told me that Kylo isn’t so opposed to petting little birdies as he seems.


	11. False Alarm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A somewhat legitimate conversation with the commander is certainly a marvel in itself.
> 
> [Music](https://youtu.be/PDoaXIom100)

All was, all that is, and all that ever will be will always share a certain kinship, no matter the differences. Living or dead, matter or energy, molecular or cosmic. You didn’t need any religion or special philosophy to tell you that.

As you walked between trees and over logs on the rainforest planet, this connection was increasingly evident. There was something about the isolation which was living on a cold, sterile city of a starship that made one feel incredibly lonely and mentally dampened.

_How could I have possibly objected to this mission? Of course it’s dangerous. But chaos is the most interwoven aspect of nature, truly. And this? This is something I can’t live without._

It was ironic, your acquisition of this position with the First Order. This was your first major field mission since taking the job— out of countless excruciatingly boring laboratory days. That was practically all there was to do, besides the upkeeping of your unusual reputation during occasional time off periods.

_Well, this might just be the dawn of a new era for me. That is, if this mission doesn’t kill us all first._

Even if this day never came, you couldn’t ever feel anything less than the utmost gratitude for your position. It was quite possibly the greatest opportunity someone like you could have been granted. You wouldn’t trade it for the homeworld.

You could have sworn you caught the commander admiring the blooming canopies above as you were lost in your own thoughts. A small smile lingered on your lips. One could not simply ignore the wonders of such a planet as Garatira. The great, tall trees dwarfed anyone and anything in their presence. Like the vastness of both spacetime and the communities of microorganisms— on skin, throughout soil, within a single morning dew drop— the trees had an enormous ability to humble a person.

There was something new that graced the atmosphere, you noted. Within all the wild, sprawling bustles of life and growth, a faint but evident foreign current.

You slowed, trudging up to a thin black trunk. The specimen’s branches spread like a fan at the top, leaves rich with contrasting vibrant chlorophyll. The oily, blister-like bark was resilient against your prodding fingertips.

“Doctor, how old is this planet?” asked a familiar and resonant voice behind you.

You cleared your throat while still picking away at the bark. Still focused on the tree bark, you replied distractedly.

“Oh, I don’t know. Four point something something billion, standard. Just an estimate, of course. I think we’ve got mammalians, so…”

You found that each spherical bubble had a different physical resistance. Smaller, more concentrated bubbles were firm against your touch, while the larger ones were flushed with a maroon hue and noticeably waivered with pressure. One particularly squishy lump burst as your nail scratched too roughly against it. A deep burgundy fluid stained your fingertips as the broken tissue deflated.

“Why do you ask?” You peeked over your shoulder to see Kylo Ren inspecting a similar tree. He wasn’t nearly as harsh as you were, gently pressing a palm to the surface instead.

Though he heard you, his contemplative expression was enough to tell you that there was either no particular reason he had asked, or he didn’t feel like telling you yet.

_Well, that’s okay. At least he’s more interested than those dumb Coruscanti exchange students at the academy._

You wiped the red-stained hand on your shirt. Your life prior to the First Order would occasionally haunt your subconscious. Those freeloaders had no real ability. They had relied upon their parents’ wealth and connections to get to the prestigious schools they didn’t even care for. No real hard work at all. They didn’t know life like you did, but what bothered you the most was the fact that most of them didn’t even try to understand. You didn’t hate them for what they were— you were frustrated with what they chose to believe.

“You need to go back to the ship,” Kylo Ren said sternly, suddenly rushing over to you.

“What? Why?”

“You’re injured,” he urged on, worry washing over his usual brooding gaze. You were taken aback. You hadn’t sustained any injuries aside from the little scratches from the tree incident and walking through the forest.

“I don’t know what you’re—“

You looked down following his line of sight, right to where your hand had been.

 _Oh_.

A long bloody stain streaked the length of your shirt, from your sternum down to the bottom seam. Except that it wasn’t your blood. It was tree juice.

“No,” you laughed, shaking your head. “No, no. This is a natural dye. From the trees!” You patted the dark trunk beside you. “I’m fine, trust me.”

Kylo’s eyes softened. You both remained quiet for a few moments as the confusion and panic died down. He took a step back, exhaling. You hadn’t noticed it, but he had been standing over you intently.

“With everything Hux said, I’m not sure what I would do without a navigator,” the commander said hesitantly.

“I’d rather not imagine that scenario,” you admitted, mind wandering disobediently to the many possible hopeless situations which the commander and his squad of stormtroopers could have landed in had you not been available.

“...It did look like blood. Had it been, we would have to leave,” he continued, strangely. You supposed your appearance was still shocking enough to render the topic still relevant, despite your insistence that it was surely nothing of concern.

You shrugged. “Well, that’s what makes it a good dye. There’s a similar species over on Gamma Trichent. The Uharpans use it in art, writing, that sort of thing.” The fact that the Uharpans named Garatira “Garatira”, yet insisted upon referring to their homeworld as “Gamma Trichent” always escaped your comprehension.

“The First Order has good trade relations with the Uharpans,” Kylo said, almost boastfully. “Have you been?”

“I can’t say I have, though I do like the planet and the culture. They have talented engineers, so that’s a very good choice for the Order,” you smiled.

Kylo allowed some smugness to shine through following the careful ego stroking. “Some of the Order’s most cutting edge experimental technology is developed on Gamma Trichent.”

You began to walk slowly, and to your surprise, he followed. “Well, too bad they didn’t design my probe. I’ll probably never see that thing again,” you sighed, brushing the creeper vines you passed by with an outstretched hand.

Kylo fell silent for a moment. He occasionally touched the vines as you had been doing while looking off somewhere in thought. “Hux was angry about the missing probe. He said you had lost it.”

 _What_.

“Of course he did,” you muttered, inhaling deeply. A part of you wished he had come with, just to suffer the wrath of the big yellow star’s heat. And the bugs. And the branches which seemed to constantly poke and whip everyone who stepped into close enough proximity to them. That would knock some sense into him. Because unlike the stormtroopers and even Kylo Ren, Hux would have no tolerance for the simultaneous wickedness and beauty of a planet like this.  
  
_Man, this fucking guy. How is that my fault? I’ll show his skinny ginger ass one day._

“I _attempted_ to reason with him,” he said amusedly, looking over to you.

You forgot that the commander could easily listen in on your internal monologue— the same way you forget about Hux’s complete apathy for your ramblings when you’re given the chance to speak long enough with him. And the commander just listened in on your cursing out of a high ranking official.

It was then that you decided to stop talking. It was less of a decision than a complete inability to continue the conversation comfortably. It seemed that you forgot who you were even talking with. Even so, you struggled to accept that it was the commander himself with whom you had that conversation. Somehow, he was far more reasonable than Hux— despite all that you had heard of him. There were certainly enough horror stories from stormtroopers to spark reluctance to ever cross paths with the commander. Admittedly, he is hardly approachable, nor was he very cordial at first. Although, he had since subverted your expectations— nearly every time. Naturally, you expected the worst, and reputation didn’t help that. Perhaps you had simply misjudged Kylo Ren.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tree incident number two is inspired by my trip to Sacramento last week, where I had spilled bright red candy on my white dress shirt. It looked as if I had been shot. 
> 
> Bear with these subtle hints as we begin to play the foreshadowing game!


	12. Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Hux so wishes to throw blame around, he should see the crime scene for himself.

“I’m no geologist, but planetary science is amazing,” you mused aloud as the female stormtrooper from earlier caught up. At first, you were afraid she decided to ignore your shenanigans for the rest of the mission— that the answer to your trivia question earlier was a single-time occurrence. But then you realized the real reason when she approached you only after Kylo decided to speak with some of the other stormtroopers about incomprehensible and most likely classified military things.

“I only know a bit, but I have to agree,” replied the girl modestly. She twirled a few short strands while her eyebrows knitted together for a moment in contemplation. “I’m LK-4723, by the way.”

“It’s nice to meet you, though I’m surprised you’re only the third most talkative here.” You reminded her of your name too, as you obviously weren’t a very big point of interest during the briefing, despite your supposed importance.

“Yeah… I noticed,” she said, her eyes widening as she did. “You’re doing great by the way. Just thought I’d let you know.”

“Oh, thanks Elle. I’m trying!”

You wouldn’t have any of that designation number silliness. LK-4723 was Elle to you now. Not even your specimens were left unnamed, let alone a potential friend.

“Don’t let Commander Ren hear you calling me that,” she hissed, leaning in to say. “Don’t want you in trouble.”

“Have you been paying attention?” You snickered, elbowing her lightly. “I’m the Kylo-whisperer. I’m telling you.”

Elle shrugged. “You got me there. I’m not pretending to understand how you do it, but what can you expect from a girl who goes around poking deadly plants and animals for a living? I guess he’s no exception. Sheesh.”

You both laughed at the absurdity of it all. Your passions, and by extension, your career, are admittedly odd in comparison to the norm within the First Order. Perhaps in the entire sector, even. And of course, such a career was nothing short of taboo back on Hefallia.

“Oh, so that’s where you went.”

A glint of metal among the sea of mud just off the makeshift trail caught your eye. When you approached the sparking mystery, it revealed itself to you as none other as your missing probe.

You trudged over to the break in the thick groundcover near the pit of murky water, Elle trailing close behind you. Crouching, you inspected the rusting piece of machinery. It looked incredibly different from its day of launch. Aside from oxidation, the stickers and paint had peeled, and half of the exposed chassis was coated in mud.

Elle squatted next to you, narrowing her dark eyes at the probe. “This thing’s totally broken,” she mused, fingering through the areas of damage. “Like a big chunk was ripped away.”

The affected side was a mess of jagged metal bits and stray wiring. A fairly large section of hull was completely missing from the vessel, exposing all of the mechanical innards. Money down the drain, as Hux would say, but that was the least of the thoughts rushing into your mind.

“I knew the AIF would cause trouble for us,” Elle scoffed, rising to her feet and pacing off the frustration. “They most have known we were coming, dismantled your probe and everything.”

“You think they did this?”

She stopped, taking another look at the wreck. “They’re petty terrorists. I think that speaks for itself. I’d better report this to the squad and discuss further with the commander.”

“Sounds good to me,” you shrugged, giving your farewells to your formerly functioning recon unit before walking with Elle back to the main trail.

You sat behind as Elle spoke hushedly to the other stormtroopers, which you found odd considering there wasn’t anything about the discovery that was a secret to be kept from you, or so you thought. You were there with her, after all. Soon, Kylo joined them in discussing what you presumed to be things somewhat related to the mission, but evidently not appropriate for the lowly scientist to listen in on.

_Back to top-secret meeting time, I guess._

Once again, you found yourself sitting awkwardly while the higher-ups conducted their business. There really wasn’t much else for you to wait and watch the barely audible bickering of the group. It wasn’t pleasant, to say the least. You always wanted to know the plan— what was going on. Of course, this mission was no school lunch table, but you couldn’t help but feel excluded. Just a force of habit, you supposed.

Even if there were something larger in the works going on here, it shouldn’t be a problem. You were almost there. Only an hour or two more of walking, and you’d arrive at the crash site. If there were to be any trouble, surely the commander could simply call over the shuttle. The stormtroopers may not have their weapons now, but the shuttle still did. Whatever it may be, you’d be ready for it.

Elle came up next to you once the discussion had seemed to cease. Her once quaint demeanor had completely faded away, replaced with a stern vigilance. “Let’s get moving. We haven’t got much time to dwindle now. In and out, that’s how we’re going to do this.”

With that, she turned on her heel and joined the other stormtroopers once again. You trailed after her sheepishly. Her new attitude had certainly caught you off guard, but that was to be expected of a soldier. You were still somewhat in the dark with the current situation, but it was evidently serious enough to inspire this switch in Elle.

Trichent was beginning to set in the indigo sky. You weren’t so comfortable with the thought of navigating the forests in the dark, and so you quickened your pace amongst the group. The chirps and buzzes of the trees became more numerous with the fall of night. You hadn’t quite thought of night. The trip to the crash site was taking far longer than you had anticipated, and you just hadn’t considered the possibility of complications during your prepping. There was a whole new set of worries to agonize about— but it was all nearly over. The paranoia shouldn’t become a reality when you’ve already made it this far.

 _In and out, just like Elle said_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the lack of updates!! I’ve been taking some classes. We’re close to wrapping up this mini-arc, so I have been figuring that out too.


	13. Heart of the Jungle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of the journey is near, but Garatira has one last surprise in store for us all. 
> 
> TW (SPOILER): ~~there’s a kind of gross corpse scene in this chapter.~~

  
The worries refused to leave your restless mind. Self-reassurance would shoo them away, but just as they’d cease, dread came creeping back to undermine your idle musings. Everything was going so well. Now your whole team was just as jumpy as you normally were, the uneasiness so noticeably spreading through the air.

Typically, you were able to calm more easily when your environment was calm. There was no hope for that now as even your commander seemed to jerk at the rustles in the bushes, the natural creaking among the canopies. As for you, that which lurked within the darkness didn’t particularly frighten you— it was the atmosphere itself which did. Terror seemed to envelop the forest itself, manifesting in the sudden sounds and growing silence from the formerly active animals. Not even your fruit wasps remained— this being perhaps the most worrying detail. In a land which should be filled with constant commotion, the absence of the smallest creatures signified something wrong nearly always. Tiny beings which are just about purely driven by their biological programming deem the place as unsafe— animals which have next to zero preference and multiply where they can. You could see it happening in sterile environments like Starkiller, but even little rodents tended to stow away like bacteria in ballast water from incoming ships. But in a forest teeming with life— something was terribly wrong.

That, and the possible confrontation with the Anti-Imperialist Front which has caused trouble for not only the First Order, but the New Republic too for upholding the tradition of monarchies, no matter how much the constitution restrained a ruler. Just another extremist group hiding behind a kindly name. There would be hell to pay if they had wrecked your probe— endeavors for ethical scientific advancement had no reason to be so rudely dismantled.

You wouldn’t want them here of all places. Organic sentients tended to destroy that which laid in their path during times of conflict. You dreaded any kind of confrontations on foot or orbital strikes. War was war, and while you couldn’t prevent this destruction, at least let the casualties be limited to the respective parties within the confines of space. These people, of course, never thought past themselves and the cause they thought they were fighting for.

It all felt even worse once you looked to Elle and then to Kylo. Both were completely lost to their respective thoughts was you were. Elle was fiddling with edges of her shirt rather roughly while Kylo’s expression was firmer than usual, jaw clenched and eyes searching the shadowy crevices throughout the the vicinity. You knew better than to bother them with your own imaginary scenarios, so you stayed silent. It was something strange seeing headstrong individuals riddled in uncertainty.

You found yourself playing with the feathers left behind by the plump bird from earlier. His downy plumage offered some level of comfort when you had nothing else to go to. He too, was off somewhere hiding from Maker knows what. It would be selfish though, to wish he were here with you. That would mean subjecting him to some unknown danger which plagued the jungle floor.

Approaching the crash site, you found it harder and harder to walk across the premise. Your field boots were caked on with thick, wet silt. It would take hours to get them as nice and shiny as they were before. Navigation became a careful process in which you’d test the viscosity of the material before walking across it. The tediousness of walking in near circles was worthwhile— you wouldn’t want the squad to get caught in the terrible sinking mud.

_Almost there, we’re almost there._

You repeated the mantra to yourself constantly as you advanced the hazardous terrain. Night was falling quickly now, and the temperature proceeded to take a sharp drop. Only tiny rays of golden light shined through over the barely visible horizon. Each heavy step ached further— dinked further— as you ebbed closer and closer to the final destination. You would be sore for days after this was all over.

A large murky pit you had recognized from the fly over came into view on your left. Whatever the First Order was after, it was now nearby. At this point, the weak, wet topsoil was up to your ankles. You thought hot humidity was bad— cold humidity was fairly miserable too.

Finally, the trees began to part in huge splintering shards, like great spears threatening visitors from above. The muddy ground was carved in violently, leaving an engraved line to follow. You gulped as you caught wind of a strange scent, but waved it off. You had arrived.

Paradoxical, nervous excitement filled your chest— equal parts relieved and anxious. You knew you should be happy, the mission was finally over after all, but worry still racked your heart. It could be a trap by the terrorists, and you had led your defenseless squad to their doom. Now that you considered it, a few light weapons wouldn’t have hurt, but there was nothing to do about that now.

At the end of the scar in the ground was a small starship. It was spattered with mud from the impact, and appeared inoperable now. It looked old, unlike any modern ships you’ve ever seen. The red-haired combat engineer took over, inspecting the damage first before prying open the vessel. You remained on the sidelines as he and the commander extracted an entire console from the inside.

“See that,” Elle whispered to you, also watching the two remove the console. “It’s a partial copy of the Imperial Archives. Since the fall of the Empire, many of these files have been destroyed or locked away with the creation of the New Republic. One brave officer downloaded as much as he could years ago and went into hiding. This is his ship.”

“No wonder the AIF wanted it irrecoverable,” you replied hesitantly. It was still on your mind, though this revelation was indeed interesting.

“Yep. Seems about time to call the command shuttle over,” she sighed, stretching her tired arms. “Well, I’m going to see if I can help with anything. Just wait here.”

You hoped Elle wouldn’t get in trouble for spilling the beans to you. Though by now, you figured that you deserved to know what you had come all this way for. The ordeal was done and you were lucky enough to make some rather interesting acquaintanceships along the way. All the troopers looked as exhausted as you were. You were so ready to get home.

When the console was safely placed on a bed of lichen, Kylo approached you. He was probably the most exhausted, besides you of course. The stormtroopers were simply more accustomed to the hardier climates. He naturally didn’t go on the miserable, tedious missions just judging by his normal attire. You couldn’t blame him— the temperate is truly draining after a while.

“Good work, Doctor,” he said, truly genuine in his words. You could tell. “I doubt I could have made it this far without your—“

The commander’s generous praise was interrupted by Elle calling out your first name— not “Doctor”, not “ma’am”— with an urgency not short of alarming.

Your brewing giddiness was shot down. “Yeah? What’s wrong,” you called back, jogging over to her frozen figure by the treeline.

“You’d better take a look at this,” she uttered, standing completely still until you arrived beside her.

It was a human male, or at least you thought it once was. The smell from earlier hit you with full force. The corpse was in late stages of composition, yellow maggots squirming within the pockets of flesh that still clung to the skeletal remains. You gagged at the putrid stench which contrarily attracted tiny flies to the scene, breeding and feeding on the rot.

You had to turn away and collect yourself before investigating further. Bile pushed at your esophagus, but you held yourself together. You’ve seen worse. Looking back, you found that his vertebral column had been sloppily severed just below the ribcage, only a few strands connecting his midsection. Had the climate been more arid, the spilled entrails would have been dried, but instead they became a larvae hotspot.

The gentle grip of Elle’s hand on your shoulder caused you to jump a bit. You took a deep breath. “This is an AIF militant. Look at his uniform. I—“

She tightened her grip and barely whispered your name, nails digging painfully into your shoulder. A contrabass rumble resonated from somewhere behind you, piercing your chest with its threatening vibrations. Rivaling the sound was your own hammering heart. Holding your breath, you turned slowly.

It all happened so fast. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens! ~~Is that a soup metaphor?~~ First story arc is almost done— hope you guys liked it!! This is only the beginning! Sorry about that cliffhanger. :^)


	14. Beast Charmer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m good with animals, she says.

Time slowed in place. Time, a relative measurement and an individual dimension, now proving its ability to dilate dramatically to those who perceive it— perhaps even more than in only the psychological sense.

The deep, ominous growl of the beast was met with a sharp cry— a crackling, wild one with piercing force in the erupting battle of treble and bass.

Your hands shot out, one towards the heat radiating behind you, the other between the firey, slit eyes which never once left your own.

All you could hear now was the constant thump of your pulse, erratic and blinding. But your mind was without deliberation.

Your fist tightened around the warm ribbed fabric, tightly enough that your shaking wouldn’t make a difference.

Cold scales collided with your fingertips, steamy breath brisking the tiny hairs of your other hand. His only movement was that of the long, pink external gills which frilled slowly down from full extension.

At that moment, you stood between two of the most fearsome beings on the planet. A force which prevented certain death of that which strikes first.

Neither did strike, however. And so you stood until the whine of the saber’s deignition begun, slowly then all at once. You released his arm as the bundled tension faded, placing your free hand over the other.

Thrill and fear and fascination all felt synonymous. You were teetering on the edge itself, but a sparing wind seemed to keep you from plummeting to the ravine. You felt your own heat on the tip of his snout, spreading and circulating over the rigid plates and back onto the surface of your hands. All he did was stare with those striking green slits, only obstructed by the fibrous, muddy mane flopped over the side of his enormous head— at least the size of your torso.

Your hands slid slowly down, over his protruding fangs, then over nothing at all. They returned to your sides.

Then he broke the stare. The creature slid lazily back into the murky depths of his swamp, grumbling almost inaudibly as he disappeared from sight. Only opaque bubbles remained as evidence of his presence.

Reality didn’t hesitate to come rushing back to you. The imaginary impact would have sent you falling backward if Elle hadn’t caught you and kept your wobbly legs steady.

Except that it wasn’t Elle— it was Kylo who had helped you back to balance. You were sure he was saying something to you, but with the ring in your ears coupled with your fatigue, you couldn’t hope to make it out.

The next moments were a blur. You were rushed away from the pit. All of the hushed talking seemed to morph into unanimous mesh of meaningless sounds. Your limbs felt limp and weightless and your ankles threatened to give out under your own weight. Yet, a pair of hands remained at your shoulders all the while, eliminating that possibility.

The command shuttle didn’t take long to arrive. Whatever they had told the pilot was enough to send him soaring in like a hungry loth-cat at dinner time. It camouflaged perfectly against the night sky, save for the the few stars it blotted out with the sleek silhouette.

The trip back was a quiet one. Aside from the occasional whispers, the cabin wallowed in weary silence. The console had been stowed away safely in the cargo compartment, and all the stormtroopers sat speechlessly as they tended to their minor wounds— scrapes, sunburns, bug bites, and the such.

You sat speechless as well. This time, you were not lost in thought. Rather, not a single thought crossed your numbed mind. Your eyes shifted in your lap, from one hand to the other, then back to the other in an idle sort of mild shock. You repeated this until the sharp chill of the shuttle began to nip at your damp, exposed arms. Unraveling the coat you had tied around your waist, you slid your arms through the sleeves and zipped up the middle.

The coat was absolutely not made for cold, and so it did little to help you conserve heat. You wrapped your arms around your chest, shivering. With shut eyes, you pictured the safe confines of your quarters. They were small and cold, yes, but you could get cozy in bed, and you needed that more than anything at the moment.

You couldn’t imagine mustering the strength to work for days after all this. Eating terrible cafeteria food and sleeping in sounded better than it ever did. You had to shake yourself from sleeping in the shuttle’s seats just at the thought of it.

Suddenly, your daydreaming was interrupted by a heavy warmth. “Take this.”

You opened your eyes to find Kylo standing before you, now wearing the inner tunic from his usual attire. He had given you the surcoat to use as a blanket. It was big enough to be used as one, that is. You nodded and wrapped the soft material around your shoulders, squeezing your eyes shut again.

You must have accidentally dozed off soon after, as the jump to hyperspace was completely unnoticed this time around. Some turbulence awoke you later. You weren’t quite sure how later, exactly. The time dilation didn’t do justice to your old analog Hefallian watch.

Rubbing your eyes, you sat up in your seat. You were quickly met with searing pain in your ankles once again. If you had landed wrong or perhaps dropped out of the tree from a slightly higher altitude, your ankles would have broken without a doubt. Winching, you massaged the surely bruised area.

Just that short rest alone gifted you some much needed energy. Your mind went over the course of the day from start to finish— The fun parts and he life-threatening ones alike. And suddenly, it all made sense to you.

“I think I know why he let me do that,” you said hoarsely, catching Kylo’s gaze.

“Oh?”

“The night was cold— cold even for us warm-bloods. An ectotherm’s metabolic rate slows dramatically in colder temperatures. He didn’t have the energy for the usual trigger hair attack, so he stayed stationary when I found him.” Your speech was slurred, but that didn’t matter. You were suddenly proud of your hypothesis.

“Or, he didn’t think you worth harming,” he affirmed after considering your words. He was surprisingly genuine, without too much snark in the quip this time.

“Maybe. I don’t know if reptiles think very much at all, though,” you grumbled, cozying back in your seat and hiding your smile.

The rest of the flight was calm. By the time you opened your eyes again, the shuttle had arrived back in the Finalizer’s hangar. You had guessed nobody had the nerve to wake you, so you showed yourself out.

You were greeted by Mitaka as you finally deboarded. “Doctor! How did— oh! Oh dear, you’re bleeding!”

His innocent, friendly face was quickly struck with shock as he approached you. It occurred to you that your shirt was still stained beyond salvation.

“It’s just a flesh wound, Mitaka,” you laughed weakly. He stared back at you, confused and horrified.

With the remainder of your energy, you ran off to your quarters, snickering and leaving him to wonder. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yaaay nobody dies! Next chapter should conclude act one.


	15. Grand Gestures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One angry ginger is enough.

****To say the least, normal operations resumed after the entire fiasco on Garatira. You continued your studies with a whole new layer to your already-complicated reputation, and rarely crossed paths with Kylo from there on. Soon you returned to Starkiller living just short of a civilian-style life. It was boring but tranquil. You already had your share of adventure, and this was your retirement from active duty.

 

_ Well, that’s how I hoped it would go.  _

 

A violent flickering of lights awoke you from the unscheduled nap. Hortis, a less-than-graceful colleague of yours, stood angrily in the doorframe. From his twisted red face, you could tell that your nap was a bit longer than just a nap. 

 

“Sleeping in the lab again,” Hortis sneered, his words more statement than a question. He paced the perimeter, arms crossed. 

 

You quickly pulled yourself off the table, facing the red-haired botanist head-on. “Can you blame me? I’m freaking exhausted, okay? Yell at me once you’ve done some field work,” you barked, throwing your arms out in frustration. Despite having been asleep only a few minutes ago, your pulse raced instantaneously from a measly thirty to what felt like a million beats per minute. 

 

“Look, you’re not the one who gets in trouble when  _ someone  _ is making a lounge out of the laboratories— I am. I have to clean up for you all. You don’t even think about that, huh,” he ranted, ignoring your emotional lament completely . “Coming in here behind my back, treating your workplace as a second quarters. Just leave before we both get written up.”

 

You gave Hortis a dirty look as you gathered your things to flee the crime scene. “Fine,” you grumbled. “If you want me out, I’m out. I hope you realize I work double-time so I can make a good name for us. But I  _ suppose _ you don’t think much about that either. See you at o’ eight hundred.”

 

“Don’t bother coming,” he rebuked as you pushed past him. “Special orders from the higher-ups. Don’t know what you did, but you’re not supposed to be working for a week.” 

 

By the time Hortis finished his sentence, you were already out the door and on your way. Maneuvering the maze of corridors and limping up and down steps, you finally made it back to your bed, where you collapsed into the thin mattress without a double-take. Your fingers intertwined with the fabric as you clenched them into fists. 

 

_ Fuck him. Fuck Hortis. Gods, I’m so tired.  _

 

You replayed the scenario over and over in your mind. The way he spoke to you, looked at you, infuriated you. He would be eaten alive if it weren’t your your existence, yet he couldn’t even help to appreciate the caf you used to bring him in the mornings. Your breaths became shallower as you imagined your way out of a linear train of thought. Floating around across timelines and over moments, you remembered his last words. 

 

As you sat up immediately, a small note laying unassumingly on your nightstand caught your eye. You didn’t remember leaving any papers around recently. 

 

Upon closer inspection, you found that the paper indeed was not of your own— a strange occurrence given that ink and paper notes were a rarity. Even stranger was that it found itself in your quarters. 

 

Your eyes darted over the blotted scribblings once and over again. It read, bluntly, “ _ I thought you might like these.” _

 

_ These? _

 

Casting the note away, you pondered blankly as to what might the vague message refer. You slid off your bed, careful not to put pressure on the wrong places as your feet met the floor. It was ridiculous how fragile ankles were. Ankles aren’t something you particularly think about when it came to injuries, but they’re truly a major weak point. Just a little too much impact coupled with an odd positioning of your feet was devastating. The bruising reached from around the ankle itself, down the outside of the foot, then across the toes and underneath your arch. The pain meds helped, but walking made things worse, it seemed. 

 

To aid in walking, you would hang off whichever ledge you had access to. It was very convenient that things on a starship were often arranged in a way that such ledges were placed strategically in the event of artificial gravity failure. 

 

_ Or a pair of screwed ankles.  _

 

You clung from shelf to table to chair, inspecting the premises of your quarters. It all looked the same as you left it until you found yourself at your desk. An row of inconspicuously huddled pots were set on the small stand beside it. Each was blossoming with a different exotic species: a blooming  _ Strepolepis versicolor _ , a radiant  _ Diploacanthia argentatu  _ bush, a  _ Enneabaccata aromaticum _ with ripening berries, and a  _ Platyramus tinctorius  _ sapling— the tree which exploded red juice on your shirt.  

 

And suddenly you knew who left these. 

 

You let out an astonished giggle, hands finding your reddening cheeks. You couldn’t recall anyone doing something so thoughtful for you for the past few years at least— let alone someone who was supposed to be frightening. The grand, tiny gesture sent flutters into your stomach.  _ Damn him. He knew what he was doing.  _

 

Smiling, you gathered the  _ S. versicolor  _ and the  _ E. aromanricum  _ into your arms. You set the latter on your nightstand in the event of late-night snacking. The indigo berries of the plant were conveniently safe for consumption in moderation. You’d have to stay away from them during any sort of stress eating, however, as the trace toxins are a guarantee for bellyaches. 

 

You decided the flowering plant would do better near the door on a shelf. The last two pots remained on your desk. They looked rather nice there, and so you let them be. After some fine-tuning of your plants’ new homes, you collapsed back onto your bed and plucked a berry from the one beside you. It wasn’t cultivated, so the skin was rather thick and bitter, but the inside was still tasty— light and earthy, but very powerful in the fructose department. 

 

_ I’m not going to share these with Hortis.  _

 

After all, Kylo brought these to you, not some measly botanist. They’re your plants, not his. You rolled onto your side, eyeing the paper that was left for you again, and here you thought you were the only person left in the galaxy who would choose paper and ink over a datapad when given the chance.  _ I guess I was wrong there.  _

 

You supposed this made up for Kylo’s negligence of what you thought was the established protocol for the mission. “No weapons” was what you had told General Hux. You didn’t bring any, and the stormtroopers followed suit, but Kylo didn’t. Then again, Kylo probably can do whatever he pleases around here, to the general’s evident dismay.

 

“At least I saved the day,” you sighed to yourself. “And won myself a week of vacation time and yet another angry ginger. Life’s great.” Across the room, you spotted a dark mass folded over the side of a chair. You sat up. 

 

_ That’s odd, it seems he forgot to pick up my makeshift blanket while delivering these gifts. Guess I’ll have to return it… sometime.  _

 

“Just not today,” you whispered, shutting off your lights to catch up on some much-needed sleep. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for no updatey, classes and pet drama... Anyway, I’m trying to cutesy this up as much as I can before the dark stuff comes. Stay tuned. :^)


	16. Wishful Thinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Human psychology was always quite the clusterfuck.

A week off may have sounded like a nice thing at first. But when you are either physically or mentally capable of doing all the fun things you’d normally want to do with a week off, the period of grace becomes nothing more than a pity party of supposed recovery. You spent far too much time limping about your tight quarters, eating sweet berries, and simply laying in bed while weaving escapist daydreams.

 

It was dreadful to be so unproductive, actually. The first couple of days were alright. You slept for hours and tended to your cuts and bruises. There was nothing major except for your limp, which quickly eased with all the rest you had been allowed. After that, there was just nothing much else to do. You couldn’t go to work— your ID had been temporarily disabled for the time being— and you couldn’t even review the data you collected, which was stowed away in the lab.

 

Of course, berries couldn’t satisfy your hunger for much longer. Like it or not, you had to return to the wretched cafeteria for a proper, flavorless meal. You slipped on a sweater and hobbled out of your quarters.

 

You didn’t miss the dark, winding corridors of the star destroyer. You could have sworn you had walked down the same one two or three times while finding your way around. It didn’t help that you were still rather disoriented. Although there were easier means of navigating the vessel, such as passing through the more spacious commons that bustled with activity, you always preferred the backways, as confusing as they were. You couldn’t help but feel out of place amidst the usual operations, so you subsequently avoided them.

 

You knew you were on the right path once you noticed more officers walking in the same direction. You followed them, keeping your distance. Thankfully, the lines for food were shorter than usual.

 

_Must’ve slept in late._

 

You hadn’t paid much attention to your sleeping schedule— something that you would normally need to regulate strictly. Because very few officers— and next to zero stormtroopers— had the luxury of flexible cycles, you could conveniently avoid the traffic today.

 

You picked up a muffin and your usual caf. The confection looked as dull and uninspired as you felt. After the long and tedious walk there, staying to rest for a bit in the nearly empty hall didn’t sound too bad. You set your tray down at far table and took a seat, picking at your unappetizing breakfast.

 

 _If only I had some more fruit-bearing trees. I could live off of that. Never eat this garbage again. Subsequently deprive myself of all the other vitamins I need… oh well. It’s not like I’m getting those anyway._  

 

You managed to shove a fraction of the “muffin” down your throat after some time. It was dry and stale, just as you had expected. The caf, at least, was alright as always— surprisingly. If there was a single consumable the kitchen staff didn’t manage to make you despise, it was the caf. It was a smooth, deep roast that was fairly reliable when it came to late-night research.

 

_Just the kind of energy I need right now._

 

One more cup wouldn’t hurt. You got up and refilled on the apparent elixir of life itself. As the hot caf pattered full, you spotted a familiar dash of black sweep past the open halls outside. Your heart sank.

 

_Okay. Time to leave._

 

You rushed back to the table, scooping up the tray with the half-eaten muffin in one hand and the cup in the other. In haste, you hobbled to the door, elbowing the wall controls before backing out of the cafeteria. You twirled around only to be met with the commander towering over you.

 

“Hello, Doctor,” Kylo purred amusedly begins his modulator.

 

_Oh Stars. Oh Stars. How does this work again? Uhhhhhh…_

 

“Uh— hi, sir?” you squeaked.

 

Your nails dug into the tray. You could nearly feel his smirk despite the cold glare of his helmet. He turned away from you.

 

_There’s something… something I’m forgetting._

 

“Wait—“

 

Kylo looked back at you, patient as you fumbled through your thoughts.

 

“Your coat— I still need to give that back to you,” you said, faltering.

 

“That’s right,” he nodded. “I’ll see you in your quarters.”

 

You froze. _My quarters?_

 

Obviously Kylo had free reign over the First Order’s assets— his only challenger being the grumpy general who oversaw your department— but he certainly wasn’t being subtle with this sudden invitation into your only tolerable retreat.

 

_Not much to say to that, then._

 

“Well,” you sighed. “In that case, my room number is—“

 

“I know what it is,” he grumbled before turning again and storming off to whatever official business you imagined he’d need to attend to.

 

Once he was out of sight, you let out a small breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. As rough as that particular encounter went, you couldn’t help but feel a smidge of giddiness. Despite your clumsy social skills and Kylo’s apparent lack of them, you didn’t get the impression that he hated you as many of your peers had felt.

 

_That’s a good thing, right?_

 

You started walking back— there was certainly no rush now. Hortis and Tarwa had told you quite enough horror stories about Commander Ren. The lashing out at lower ranks, short temper, and obvious Force ability— yet, with the hours of close proximity throughout your mission, you witnessed next to nothing of that.

 

Sure, you came off as eccentric at first, but everyone gets used to that eventually. He was kind, almost— tolerant of the things that Hux or your colleagues would tell you to shut up about.

 

_Wishful thinking… I literally had everyone’s life in my graceless hands. What’s the logic in being hasty in a situation like that?_

 

But then there were the _nice_ things. He brought you plants and gave you his coat and gave you an entire week off. That’s definitely more than a matter of “tolerating” you.

 

_The people I’ve worked with for years never did so much as to bring me gifts on holidays! Again, they probably all hate me, but… Kylo doesn’t? And that whole ‘instinctual swamp creature didn’t think me worth harming’ nonsense, oh dear..._

 

You shook those thoughts from your consciousness before you overanalyzed them off a cliff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for neglecting this fic… SW fandom is in off season and I’ve been losing my mind, but not to worry. Stressed and depressed amirite? Anyway, I watched TLJ again and now I’m in the moooooood. :^P


	17. Afraid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dismembering the botanist is unnecessary, but there are greater matters.

You had just enough time to choke down the rest of your muffin, water your plants, and loll around your room while tidying things up. You’d best make an effort to look presentable to an extent, even with the many kitten pictures taped to your walls. 

 

_ It’s nobody’s business but mine on how I choose to decorate! _

 

After shoving the last few stray papers into a cabinet, you plopped onto your bed. It was relieving after even the lightest of activity. In addition, the “normal” gravity took some getting used to again, despite having been subjected to only hours of Garatira’s above-average gravitational forces. 

 

Unfortunately, you could only lay down for a hot minute before Kylo Ren came knocking at your door, as promised. 

 

“Come in,” you said, punching in a button on your nightstand. You shot to your feet as your door slid open, smiling awkwardly as Kylo pushed through. The door closed behind him. 

 

“Hello again...” you began after a moment too long passed in silence. You started to limp over to your chair. “It’s right over—“

“Sit,” Kylo ordered, standing in your way. “You’re still hurt.”

 

“Okay…?” You stepped back and perched on the edge of your mattress. He looked you over curiously behind the mask. 

 

“You seem to be troubled by something,” he said finally. 

 

_ A psychoanalysis routine? Oh Stars, my absolute favorite thing.  _

 

“An accurate observation,” you sighed, crossing your arms. “Just work stuff.”

 

“You’ve been given a week off,” Kylo replied, almost accusatory. “What’s the issue?”

 

“Well, I enjoy what I do, you see… my coworker, Hortis— he doesn’t appreciate my enthusiasm all that much,” you trailed off before shaking your head. “Not that it matters.”

 

“If he’s giving you any trouble—“

 

“Oh, no,” you quickly retorted. “No, please— I don’t need a Hortis fillet. He is a…  _ difficult  _ man to reason with, that’s all.”

 

“So am I,” Kylo said bluntly. 

 

“Yup,” you sighed, nodding. “I know.”

 

Kylo drew closer, gesturing at the tray cast aside on your nightstand. “You don’t eat with the other officers?”

 

“No,” you mumbled, scooching back instinctively. “I don’t usually.”

 

Fortunately, Kylo took note of your discomfort. He took a step back, much to your relief. “Where do you go?”

 

“Here— to my quarters. It’s just… easier,” you replied with a shrug. 

 

“You don’t like the others?”

 

You shook your head, laughing weakly. “No, no. It’s not that. I don’t know… in case you haven’t noticed, it’s impossible to make friends around here.” 

 

“LK-4723 appeared to get along with you,” he offered. “She tolerates you well enough.”

 

_ Tolerates? Yikes.  _

 

“Oh, does she?” you simpered, drawing in a deep breath. “Well, I guess at this point I’m not entirely sure what constitutes friendship.”

 

Kylo tilted his head slightly to the side, as if suggesting for you to elaborate without outright asking. He must have known he was prodding by now. 

 

You waved your hand dismissively. “It’s been a while. That’s all.”

 

“You have trouble with speaking to people,” he concluded with sense of conviction. 

 

_ Jee, thanks.  _

 

Frustration and embarrassment bloomed in your chest as you mustered the courage to defend yourself. “It’s not that! I just—“

 

“You don’t seem to have much trouble with me,” Kylo interrupted. He wasn’t accusatory this time and again it felt as if he was hoping you’d continue. 

 

“Pfft. You think?” 

 

“Yes,” he affirmed. “You’re not afraid of me. You speak your mind in ways that others wouldn’t dare.”

 

“My hands are literally shaking,” you huffed, throwing them out of the pockets which you promptly stuffed them into earlier. “I beg to differ.”

 

“That’s not fear. You’re only intimidated...” Kylo pressed on stubbornly. He reached for his helmet, fingers curling under its sides as he pulled it from his face with a hiss. His dark curls fell gently to his shoulders as his intense gaze found you again. 

 

“...Like with the swamp creature,” he continued lowly in his smooth, unaltered voice. 

 

You shifted uncomfortably on the bed as Kylo watched you with ridiculous attentiveness painted all over his stupid beautiful face. You shoved your hands back into your pockets. 

 

“Point taken,” you breathed, eyes wandering over to the Loth-cat pictures behind him. Their chubby, happy faces seemed to cheer you on. 

 

“So,” Kylo purred, crossing his arms. “What’s the problem?”

 

You chewed at your lip nervously and took a deep breath. “Well, if you’re so curious… Well maybe—I was just thinking… with what happened back there and all—I thought you could be my friend…?”

 

_ Fucking train wreck. Maker, help me.  _

 

Kylo froze, clearly taken aback. He blinked, eyebrows knitting together in puzzlement. 

 

“...just a suggestion, of course,” you quickly added. “I don’t mean to violate the employee-employer relationship…?”

 

_ SHIT. Wrong thing to say, idiot. You made everything weird. Wrong thing— _

 

He was quiet for a long moment, looking you over as if you were some kind of exotic alien lifeform unbeknownst to the galaxy. You were forced to avert your gaze once again with your growing self-consciousness. 

 

“We will speak on this later,” Kylo said suddenly. “You have my com code.”

 

_...do I? _

 

He picked up the coat you were almost afraid he’d forget after the whole conversation that went on for far too long to not feel absolutely weird, then hurriedly left your quarters. As your door shut, you fell back onto the mattress in solace. 

 

“Fucking hell,” you chuckled, massaging your fingertips into your temples. “I mean, could have gone worse!”

 

You reached weakly for your datapad, hugging it to your chest as you stared absently up at the dark ceiling. 

 

Kylo had given you a lot to think about. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y’all are cute so here’s more. uwu


	18. Subspace Pleasantries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have my com code, he said.

_ The rumble of distant firefight shook the ground beneath you. It was dark all around except for the moon’s soft glow peeking behind a shroud of smog. Shadows lurked at every corner. Your hand dropped to your hip, fingers creeping at the holster.  _

 

The piercing beeps of your holoprojector jolted you awake. You shot up, heart racing. Jittery hands lay open at your lap, cold and empty and very clammy. You ran one through your bed-tousled hair and rubbed your eyes. 

 

_ Just another dream… _

 

You slid off your bed, fishing the inhaler from your pocket and taking a deep breath. The holoprojector continued to fish for your attention with incessant beeping. 

 

_ Right. Shit.  _

 

You fixed your hair as quickly and as best you could before opening the transmission. A ray of blue light burst forth, projecting the figure of your caller. A dark, slender face with sharp features materialized into the hologram. 

 

“Oh thank Maker, it’s just you,” you breathed, laughing weakly. 

 

“Who else would it be?” Tarwa hissed, searching your face though narrowed eyes. The Kartani pathologist was terribly skilled in reading people, as a member of a naturally empathetic race. 

 

“I dunno…” you shrugged, averting your eyes. “So, what’s up?”

 

“Surprise, surprise,” she said flatly. “You’ve got some work cut out for you.”

 

_ Oh? _

 

“What kind of work?” you asked with a small smile. 

 

“Just got alerted this morning… would have called earlier but you were sleeping, I assume,” she yawned, bearing her sharp canines. “Looks like the higher-ups want an updated report on that  _ L. rhyncocruenta  _ you saw. Said it was detailed already, but in need of revision in light of  _ current events.  _ Sounds like busy work to me, but what do I know? I practically stare at dead people all day.”

 

“I’ll get on it once my work probation is over,” you beamed. “Still have two days left for my break…”

 

Tarwa sighed, coming her talons through her black bob cut. “In other words, Doctor, your ID is approved again. Back to the lab.”

 

“Well then,” you nodded, pursing your lips. “I’ll be down there in a bit, in that case. Thanks for letting me know.”

 

“Sure. Excellent work in not getting yourself killed, by the way. You’ve exceeded my expectations,” she monotoned. Her violet, slit eyes cut daggers into you despite her apparent boredom with the conversation. 

 

“Yeah…”

 

The hologram dissipated. You slid the small projector back to its place on your nightstand.

 

_ For an empath, she could really be more empathetic… _

 

The memories of the nightmare prodded at your thoughts. You waved them away. Surely you had better things to worry about. 

 

_ Such as… _

 

Your eyes wandered to your bed, where your datapad lay amidst a jumble of bedding. You crawled onto the bed and picked up the device, sitting cross-legged. It flickered to life, displaying a simple menu. You looked over at the holoprojector to your left and sighed, remembering yesterday's discussion. There was no way in hell that you’d outright  _ call  _ him. Kylo had said you had his call code, but you were  _ fairly  _ sure you didn’t. Your attention creeped back to the datapad in your hands. 

 

You navigated to the messaging application, and sure enough, there was an new channel that hadn’t been there the last time you checked— not that you even messaged people much anyway. Still, it could only mean one thing. You opened the channel, hesitating as an empty message log and a keypad popped onto the screen. 

 

**Hello… it’s me! And if you don’t know who “me” is, I bet you can guess!**

 

Your finger hovered over the return key before you deleted the unsent string of text. You shook your head. It was far too juvenile, too silly. 

 

_ How do I even do this? Stars, why do I have to talk first? _

 

You switched the datapad off. You would deal with this later. Such a task was far too difficult at the moment. You couldn’t start this off bad. After all, this was the closest shot at a decent interpersonal relationship in years, as ridiculous as it seemed. What luck you had, for that person to be a powerful Force-user who inspired galaxy-wide fear— and outranked you by the dozen. You couldn’t even score yourself a dorky undergrad buddy during your doctorate program, so this was certainly a puzzling predicament to say the least. 

 

Perhaps after some scientific writing you would regain an ounce of eloquence. You slipped on a pair of flats and threw on your old bomber jacket. It was cozy and always reminded you of the happier days back home. It probably broke uniform standards, but you couldn’t care less at this point. You weren’t exactly representing the First Order as a non-military asset. Only Hux would trouble you with your wardrobe choices such as this one, but you doubted he’d be bothering you at the lab today. 

 

Tucking the datapad under your arm, you hurried off to write your report. Your ankles were nearly healed. You didn’t limp anymore, but it did hurt to roll them the wrong way. All you needed to do was watch your step a little more closely than usual, knowing your plague of eternal clumsiness. You loaded up on food from the cafeteria and made your way to the lab  

 

Sure enough, the wall controls didn’t reject your ID. You entered the lab, greeted by the familiar smell of citrus disinfectant and the glistening tables full of equipment. In one corner, Hortis bred quick-growing strains of grain and otherwise hardy crops in all kinds of simulated environments. In the other, a highly sterilized cubicle with microscopes, vials in a variety of sizes, and a plethora of disturbingly large syringes— Tarwa’s little workspace of death. As expected, neither of them bothered to acknowledge when your presence was obvious. 

 

At the far wall was your own work table. You had framed invertebrate pins, a shelf of wet specimens, and a whole cabinet full of samples with respective notes to go with them. Behind your chair was a skeletal diagram of a Loth-cat. You had to incorporate them somehow. 

 

You took a seat at your desk. The old written report you had organized for the general was just where you had left it. Flipping through the pages, you cringed at the sloppy handwriting and numerous grammatical errors. It definitely deserved a revamp. You opened a new text document on the computer. 

  
  


_ Might as well have the official, finalized report printed. Doubt I’ll ever see one of those things again, so… _

 

It didn’t take long to transfer all forty-five pages into a digital format— only about six hours or so, including the time it took to satisfy Hortis’s demands regarding Garatira’s floral biodiversity. He had far too many questions about its plants, and you evidently did not have enough answers for him. It was not like you had full lab equipment, and time for that matter, to analyze every specimen you came across. This was not satisfactory to the cantankerous botanist. Of course, you  _ did  _ have physical samples of the flora— but there was not a chance you’d let him near the darling gifts Kylo had given you. 

 

The actual report was actually fairly easy to finish. There wasn’t really much to add, other than your own personal account of the creature. Although it was not requested of you, you also typed up supplementary essays on the general biodiversity, as well as individual observations on  _ M. caeruleus  _ colonies and the currently unidentified species of bird with which you had forced Kylo to take a picture on your cam. You chucked at that memory. It would be inappropriate to attach that image in the report, but you did need to include some visuals. 

 

Lastly, you scanned some quick sketches of the plants and animals you encountered, and sealed up some of the down left behind by the bird in an airtight bag. You forwarded the report to General Hux, then sent the document to the printer next door. It would clearly take some time to print in its forty-five page glory— and you weren’t even printing the supplementary essays. But you couldn’t let yourself stick around for any longer. It was already eighteen hundred, and staying meant staying all “night” long. 

 

“Will you keep an eye on the printer, Tarwa?” you squeaked, peeking through her curtain. 

 

“Mhmm. Goodbye now,” she murmured, eyes fixed on the sample she was watching closely though her microscope. 

 

“Thanks…”

 

You slipped out of the lab, datapad in hand, navigating the dark, inactive corridors back to your quarters. You shed your jacket and kicked off the flats, then curled up in your unmade bed. 

 

“Okay,” you whispered to yourself. “Let’s try this again.”

 

You activated the datapad, and the screen opened right where you had left off. 

 

_ What to say, what to say… _

 

**Hello!**

 

You hit send immediately after typing in the text— no second-guessing this time, or you’ll never be able to bring yourself to do this. It was simple enough, the universal “hello”. Nothing could be mistaken there. You tapped nervously at the edges of the device as you waited for a response. Minutes passed. 

 

**> Hello. **

 

Your heart thumped in your chest as the message popped onto your screen. 

 

_ Oh gods… Well, I made it this far. But what now?! _

 

You retyped and deleted several messages, ranging from small talk to the rainforest mission of not-so-doomed outcomes. Before you could decide on an appropriate topic, another message came through. 

 

**> How was work?**

 

You sighed in relief as Kylo took initiative when you clearly struggled. How kind of him. 

 

**Pretty good, actually. I just got a new assignment this morning. I’ve been working on that all day.**

 

_ Literally all day. Ah well.  _

 

**> I had your ID approved for laboratory access. You said that you liked your job. **

 

_ Sneaky thing. So he was behind it all… _

 

**I appreciate that. :)**

 

You weren’t sure what else to say, but you did slip in the smiley for extra measures. It was always rather difficult to convey the right tone in writing alone. He was quiet for a long time, and you began to worry you didn’t say the right thing.

 

**> I have a meeting with the Supreme Leader tomorrow. Goodnight. **

 

_ Huh.  _

 

**Goodnight!**

 

You got no other messages after that. It was such a curt reply, but it wasn’t hostile in any way either. The “goodnight” was nice enough too. You switched off the datapad and your lights, smiling giddily to yourself. 

 

_ Success.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These little bitchass greater than signs (>) mean the message isn’t being sent by you, just in case you didn’t catch on. **Bold is anything typed on a datapad.** Just some creative formatting, the same way _I like using italics for thoughts._


	19. A Monumental Ordeal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’d show him up someday.

It was the last day you were allowed a lenient work schedule, so you had a full sleep after settling down from Kylo’s exchange. You awoke naturally from more long, and far more pleasant dreams than before. 

 

_ You saw the endless fields of golden corn, swaying gently with the afternoon breeze. The sky was a soft blue and the air was crisp and sweet. Sunlight shed down onto the gently rolling hills— warm, but not too warm. Birds tweeted happily overhead and colorful insects traveled from sprout to sprout, spreading the essence of life. Everything was so tranquil, so pure— untouched by meddling, careless hands. You could stay here forever.  _

 

But you couldn’t stay. Your lids cracked open to the sight of a dark, durasteel ceiling. It was cold again— cold and devoid of being. You slid out of your bed. 

 

The datapad lay at your nightstand. You flipped through it. There were no new messages, unsurprisingly. Your gaze shifted to the modest little plant with the many berries. Perhaps this world wasn’t as empty as you had felt. You smiled, your fingers tracing about its leaves. The few splashes of green in your quarters were the most, if not the only, soothing components of the otherwise industrial premise. 

 

Hux certainly wouldn’t approve of unapproved personal belongings such as these. You had to fight him to even keep your old bomber jacket due to “political implications”. He eventually gave in, though you suspected it was simply because he got tired of such a petty debate. He surely had greater matters to attend to. 

 

_ Are these even unapproved? _

 

Usually, plant and animal life brought aboard was to be quarantined approved by the life sciences department— mainly you, Hortis, and Tarwa. You had the job of conducting a general inspection of the subject. From there, either you or Hortis would carry on with a thorough evaluation of the subject, depending on its nature and purpose. Tarwa was arguably the most essential to the process, scanning the subject for diseases and other possible threats. 

 

But none of that happened for your new houseplants. There was no quarantine, no inspection. Hortis hadn’t a clue about Garatira’s flora, and Tarwa would quite literally be at your throat in the event of a violation of basic quarantine procedures. 

 

The entire process had been skipped over. Surely Kylo had the authority to override formal procedures, as dubious and potentially dangerous as it was. The general would never agree to that. He must’ve needed to do some sneaking around. It felt like quite a lot of trouble to go through simply for a few plants. It was honestly quite flattering, if that were the intention. 

 

_ I was completely thrilled by the rainforest and all the trees. So he was paying attention… “We will speak on this later” means yes, right? So that means we’re friends? And “goodnight” for fuck’s sake! My coworkers rarely say “bye” to me at the end of the day. Then again, they’re assholes, but still! Asking me about my day and all, and oh dear, my social life too… Taking off the mask, oh— _

 

He wasn’t outright, but he wasn’t as subtle as he could be either. You grinned as you put on your more formal work attire. You would have worn something more comfortable, but your updated report was all ready to be delivered to General Hux. You couldn’t simply show up with the stack of papers in hand while wearing slippers and sweatpants, so dressing up was a necessary pain today. Hux was the singular greatest possible dampener to your pleasant mood. You left your quarters, but not without your datapad. 

 

_ And when he looked at me, his words genuine... _

 

You didn’t want to get carried away either. It was easy to overthink things and misinterpret an entire situation. You didn’t want to make a mistake and mess up something as delicate as this, no matter how exhilarating it all was. 

 

You picked up the packet at your office. It was far thicker than before, and much more organized. You took a moment to admire the view from the window. The  _ Finalizer  _ was still idling around the star system of Trichent, with Garatira and Gamma Trichent as small colored dots on a backdrop of velvet black. The vast, forested planet felt so small, endearing, and ultimately non-threatening from this distance. 

 

_ As they say, looks can be deceiving.  _

 

It wasn’t difficult to locate the general. For one, he was particularly easy to pick out from the usual commotion. If he wasn’t strutting pompously though central corridors or the officers’ communication enters, he was to be found at the bridge overseeing usual business. After some brief wandering, you wound up at a command terminal overlooking the main hangar. 

 

“Ah, Doctor. How prompt of you,” Hux greeted with less malice than usual. He took the thick portfolio from you, briefly flipping through the pages. 

 

“I do hope the additions are satisfactory,” you hesitated, watching him examine your illustrations. “Credible first-hand accounts for the species are relatively unheard of.”

 

“I’m well aware,” he deadpanned, his eyes snapping back up to you. “Which makes your luck even more remarkable. How did you do it?”

 

“I can barely believe it myself, sir,” you said with a shrug. “You’d expect all the fear and panic to build up to a definite collapse— but instead it all just vanished. Then it was just me and this other living thing staring right back. Your move.”

 

“I see…” Hux trailed off in thought. “The Uharpan monarchy hailed us yesterday. Their king was shocked to hear of our success in retrieving the stolen asset from Garatira.”

 

“I’m guessing that the ordeal was monumental for Uharpan history,” you speculated. “The sister planet holds great cultural significance, after all.”

 

“That’s an accurate assessment. I will be forwarding your report to the king,” he said. “I presume the information would be of importance to them, subsequently strengthening our ties.”

 

“Sounds good,” you smiled. “Do tell them I can answer any follow-up questions.”

 

Hux nodded. “Dismissed.”

 

“Before I go, I must ask— did Commander Ren tell you about my probe?” you asked, crossing your arms. 

 

“Yes,” he said flatly. “He did.”

 

“I didn’t lose it,” you pressed on, frustrated by his previous accusations. “It was attacked by the wildlife.”

 

“You’re dismissed,” he grumbled, waving you away and turning his attention away to a wall console. 

 

_ Not even a thank you.  _

 

You flounced away to the cafeteria. Your efforts in fishing an apology out of the general were most futile. Of course he wouldn’t hop off his high horse and admit his false assumptions to a subordinate such as yourself.

 

At least you could walk away feeling somewhat accomplished. There was a just a hint of astonishment in your intensive work habits— if it wasn’t something you had imagined. It was easy to read into Hux especially. He was already so insincere. 

 

You’d show him up some day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lowkey Reader-chan should have followed quarantine rules. :^) Listen to Ripley, kids.


	20. Farming Extraordinaire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Right back in the mess.

Today you were overseeing a project Hortis recently took on, much to his dismay. You weren’t very excited to work with him either. Collaborating with the man was always a struggle. He was always so cynical, so disagreeable. It was a wonder that you had kept patience for so long. Then again, there weren’t any other departments around to join which wouldn’t be a demotion. You had worked hard for this job. You weren’t about to lose it through silly coworker scuffles. 

 

“Remember, Hortis. We don’t care about aesthetics of the fruit right now,” you sighed, crossing your arms. “You can work on that that later.”

 

“You  _ really _ believe that culinary will let this sort of thing pass?” he spat. “Gods, they look like misshapen tumors…”

 

The maroon spheroids clustered along their vine were indeed less than flattering. The thick skin of the fruits was warped and blistered, and its color tainted with dark, longitudinal bands. However unappetizing the fruits were, it did not affect their actual flavor and nutritional value any differently than a selectively bred variant. 

 

“Food is food,” you monotoned. “Let culinary deal with quality control.”

 

Hortis perked up at your dismissive answer. He yanked a tachoulé off its stem and dangled it in front of you. 

 

“Don’t you get it? This reflects badly on  _ me _ ,” he spat with venom in his tone. “Yes, yes— that not be of concern to  _ you,  _ but it is to me.”

 

You plucked the fruit out of his hand, splitting it in half and taking a bite. Its watery flesh was as mellow and savory as any other commercially distributed offspring that was available. Just as you had thought, the outward appearance had next to no effect on the quality. You stared at the botanist, unamused. 

 

“Tastes fine to me,” you shrugged. “As I was saying—“

 

“Easy for you to say,” Hortis snapped. “I’ll have you know, my tastes are refined.”

 

You ran a hand through your hair, inhaling deeply. “And I’ll have you know, I grew up breeding crops to feed myself and my family. So please, lay off.”

 

He muttered something unintelligible, shifting his stare back to the fruits. You watched him rifle around his growth chambers and pull out five other individuals. 

 

“Here are the other specimens,” he said. Each was distinctively different in their own way. One had relatively small, round fruits, while another was stripeless and light pink. 

 

“Oh good,” you smiled. “Just the diversity I was hoping for.”

 

“Thought you’d say that.”

 

“Come on,” you pressed. “It’s a good thing. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re in the middle of space.”

 

“Uh huh,” Hortis nodded. “Which means no drought and no frost.”

 

“Think, Hortis. The  _ Finalizer  _ just took a ton of damage in a run-in with the Republic Fleet. We’re low on fuel and in the middle of the Unknown Regions. There isn’t a friendly system for parsecs around,” you supposed. “Now, are we just going to let people starve as water supply runs low and our crops die?”

 

He flicked his glasses up to rub circles into his eyes. “Surely there will be other crops that grow… I mean, what you’re saying to me right now is ‘ _ what if’ _ . Let’s not play the ‘ _ what if’ _ game.”

 

“Oh, Hortis,” you groaned. “First rule of being a scientist. Always ask ‘ _ what if’!” _

 

“Well then, miss farming extraordinaire,” he said, gesturing at the tachoulé plants. “What exactly do you expect me to do with these pitiful lifeforms, then?”

 

You looked over the specimens fondly. It was a perfect batch from which to build a solid population. “Well, let’s begin on defensive traits. Like I said before, we need to focus on what matters.”

 

“Right,” Hortis nodded. “So, disease resistance?”

 

“That’s a start,” you affirmed. “And you know what will come in handy for disease resistance?”

 

“Genetic modification,” Hortis proclaimed.

 

You sighed, shaking your head. “No. That scruffy-looking heirloom-wild cross you first showed me. Lots of genetic variation there. Lots of strength. It’s your job to play with the genes from there.”

 

“I know what my job is,” Hortis bellowed, punching notes into his datapad angrily. “I’ll get to it.”

 

“What’s the hurry?” You smirked. “There’s more to breeding than polygenic disease resistance. Don’t forget about drought. It’s not something that has been extensively studied, so you’ll have to do some trial and error simulations, okay?”

 

“Yeah,” he growled. “Got it.”

 

“But do you?” you quipped. “I realize this is a new species for you and all. I know you’ll be tempted to hand-pollinate everything— but remember that tachoulé flowers have both stamens and pistils. They’ll mostly self-pollinate  _ except  _ for that funky heirloom. That will have a long style which leaves the stigma right out there in the open. Let natural cross-pollination work it’s magic! I assure you—“

 

“Don’t you have some sort of essay to write? It’s past your shift anyway...” Hortis interrupted, sneering as your rant came to a close. 

 

“Just doing my job,” you sang, packing away your things. You took one final glance at the botanist poking about the tachoulé plants, unimpressed, before leaving for your quarters. It was rather late, but you weren’t feeling particularly tired despite the usual stress. 

 

You changed out of your work clothes and climbed into bed. You lay there in the sheets, eyes closed as your mind wandered. 

 

It was a long time since you last upheld a breeding project. To be fair, you weren’t exactly unholding this one, but it certainly felt as if you were. The last time had to be at the academy, or back on Hefallia. It felt so strange to call yourself a farmer. There was little choice in respectable career options, however. Most of you had to be at that point. 

 

After some time, you sat back up again. There was no use in trying to sleep with such an active mind. You pulled your datapad along with the small holoprojector into your lap. A holovid binge sounded nice. You scrolled through titles. There was romance and drama and documentary and fantasy— but even so, nothing seemed to catch your attention. 

 

As you were mindlessly flipping through the selection menu, you got an alert on your datapad. You scowled as the screen lit up. 

 

_ Oh, your shift is over, he says! But he has no problem with pestering me in the middle of the sleep cycle with questions. I just want to watch— _

 

It was a message from Kylo. 

 

**> You spoke with the general yesterday. **

 

You bit your lip as you typed out a response. You weren’t exactly expecting a conversation with him. 

 

**Yes, I did. I gave him my updated report. He said he’d show it to the Uharpan monarchs.**

 

A long pause— the kind that always made you nervous.  _ Why must I endure such pauses? _

 

**> Their king has requested a meeting on behalf of your findings. **

 

_ I guess he was impressed after all! _

 

**That sounds good. If he has any questions, relay them to me. I can (probably) answer most of them.**

 

You smiled. For a second time, you felt really, truly useful to the pursuits of the First Order. That wasn’t to say that you weren’t already useful— but tasks like these made you essential. 

 

**> He specifically requested for your presence at the meeting. **

 

_ Oh.  _

 

**Alright. When is this meeting?**

 

You had no major projects planned for the coming weeks other than the tachoulé plant breeding. Surely you could fit the trip into your schedule. It would be a nice change of scenery, and this time the scenery wouldn’t be out to devour you. After all, Gamma Trichent was always a place you wanted to visit, being such a culture-rich society. 

 

**> Tomorrow. **

 

_ Ah.  _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you know a lot about botany, please correct me if I make mistakes. As you can probably tell, I have far greater knowledge in animals than plants. :V
> 
> Anyway, Merry Crisis!!!!


	21. Little Glowing Dots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The best seat in the house.

You practically had to drag yourself out of bed that morning. It was a huge mistake, continuing on with your initial urge to watch holovids until the fatigue finally washed over you. You had left yourself with a rather undesirable number of hours in the cycle to actually sleep through. Though your morning caf and nasty breakfast were energizing enough, the deprivation was sure to show its face sometime soon. 

 

There was plenty of packing to do. This diplomatic meeting sounded as if it would take longer than a measly afternoon to navigate, so you would prepare accordingly. Stowed under your bed was an worn backpack— the one which had stored the few belongings you took with when leaving Hefallia. The raggedy old thing had seen a lot of action, and you would have thrown it out by now if it weren’t for nostalgia’s sake. 

 

You filled it with your best clothing and other essentials. You’d bring your inhaler this time, pocketing it for later use. There was just enough space to shove in your datapad and your favorite jacket. Of course, you wore the very best you owned— practical, yet sophisticated— to see the king, but surely he wouldn’t be breathing down your neck every moment. You deserved a smidgeon of physical comfort through the inevitable downtime. 

 

_ And if Hux has anything to say to that? Well, he’ll just have to kiss my ass.  _

 

In the refresher, you fixed your hair and put on a dash of makeup to look a little more presentable than usual. There was really only time for a dash, anyway. Any more effort into your appearance would have made you late to the short-notice departure. 

 

_ A little fuckin’ forewarning would have been nice.  _

 

At this rate, it sounded quite reasonable to expect nothing short of anything and everything to be demanded of you. However, it was perhaps the best you could ever bargain for. You weren’t complaining— not much, that is. You knew better. 

 

You took one last look in the mirror, giving yourself a tired smile before slinging your bag over your shoulder. It wasn’t much of a load, to your relief. You left your quarters, hurrying down the dark, labyrinthine corridors of the ship. 

 

Soft chatter filled the premises as you slipped by rows of stormtroopers, officers, and the occasional engineer. The mood of the hangar was far lighter than it had been the last time you were here. This was to be a diplomatic arrangement, after all— and so there was little cause for anxiety among your fellow employees. 

 

The command shuttle appeared to be prepped and primed for appearances, looming over you in all of its striking elegance. There wasn’t a single speck of grime on the sleek, black hull, or any noticeable evidence of the shuttle's previous destination for that matter.

 

_ If only I were as impeccable as you… _

 

You chuckled halfheartedly. Comparing yourself to a large vehicle was silly, albeit she  _ was  _ a beautiful piece of machinery. You felt the urge to run your hands all across the polished expanses of shiny durasteel, but held your ground in fear that you’d tarnish its grace with smudged fingerprints. Given that the techs had most likely been on as short-notice as you were, they must have spent the past few hours prettying up the shuttle as much as they could. You wouldn’t exactly enter their good graces by screwing up the obvious painstaking work they had put in here for all to see. 

 

The hangar grew silent. You lifted your gaze to see General Hux, beside him Commander Ren, and two stormtroopers following closely behind. He was smug as he usually was, though a tad less so in the presence of the only person onboard the Star Destroyer to possibly challenge his rank. Forcing a smile, you greeted the general. 

 

“You made it,” he quipped, looking you over with contempt. “Good.”

 

_ What, you’d rather I didn’t? _

 

“Whatever is required of me, I shall provide,” you deadpanned, crossing your arms. “So, let’s get on with it.”

 

“Let’s,” the general scowled. “King Radashi has organized a reception of sorts within his palace. It is located in the hills overlooking the capital city’s grand plaza. You will speak when you are spoken to, and pay all due respects to our illustrious allies. Following the meeting, you will stay the night and return the morning after if all business has been taken care of by then.”

 

He drew closer, speaking lowly as he stared you down. “So, I expect  _ you _ to be on your best behavior. Understood?”

 

You raised an eyebrow at his disdainful remark. “Yes, sir,” you said flatly. “I believe I understand perfectly.”

 

Hux stepped away, now turning to Kylo, who appeared to watch your brief impudence with the general in amusement. “Ren. Do try to keep our courteous hosts in one piece. Diplomacy may not be your particular forte; however—“

 

“There’s no need to make a scene, General,” Kylo interrupted, successfully silencing the other man. “Your job here is done.”

 

“Very well,” Hux scoffed, his posture growing rigid. He quickly left the scene. 

 

You bit your lip with staunch efforts not to snicker. Clearly, you weren’t the only one irritated by the general’s less-than-gracious disposition. He couldn’t be more obvious in the display. It was a mystery to you how two people with notorious temperaments managed to work together so closely, considering the now apparent disdain for each other. It seemed to you as if most First Order affiliates engaged in a sort of reluctant cooperation— your department included. Hux was Kylo’s Hortis. 

 

Kylo and the two stormtroopers joined you on the shuttle. You followed the latter to the passenger cabin, slipping off your bag and settling into a seat near the back. 

 

“Hey there,” a familiar voice broke in beside you. You looked over at the stormtrooper, their face hidden behind the customary black-and-white helmet. 

 

“Elle?” You chirped in disbelief. “Well, I’ll be damned! Didn’t think I’d be put with you again.”

 

“I was surprised too…” she said quietly. “We ran in  _ far _ too close for comfort last time. Mind using that monster voodoo in case there’s trouble? It’s a civilized planet, but I don’t trust those jungles.”

 

“Don’t jinx it,” you hissed. “That was the most batshit preposterous stroke of luck I’ve had in  _ years. _ Can I even call it luck?”

 

“I don’t know, but what I do is that my buddy over there wasn’t too thrilled with being put on with you,” Elle whispered, tipping her helmet up to do so. 

 

You peered over to the front of the cabin. The other stormtrooper sat rigidly with their arms tightly crossed over their chest, quietly avoiding the two of you. 

 

“I see,” you whispered back. “And I can’t blame them— I must admit. But thanks for the heads up.” 

 

“Not a problem,” she nodded. 

 

You moved your bag so she could sit next to you. It was a relief to know perhaps the only friendly and approachable person in the Order— besides Mitaka, that is— would be escorting you to the king’s reception. Entertaining royalty with tales of your extravagant rainforest misadventure was a feat your particular skill set wasn’t entirely primed for. 

 

_ Hell, I can barely speak with stuttering sometimes. I’d much rather face off with a rancor than… whatever this is supposed to be. Gods, why did I agree to this again? Oh yes, that’s right. My “friend”.  _

 

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. At least you didn’t have  _ lives  _ depending on your sorry ass this time— just foreign relations— which was indeed a heavy burden but not nearly as much so as potential disembowelment via large reptile. 

 

_ Whose bright idea was that anyway? Oh yes, that’s right. Thanks, Hux.  _

 

“Doctor.”

 

Your eyes darted up to see Kylo standing in the threshold of the cabin. He had yet to acknowledge your presence up until this point. You grabbed your bag and belted over. 

 

“Yes?” you asked hesitantly, staring up at him. 

 

“If you are done socializing,” he began admonishingly. “Come with me.”

 

Kylo turned, leading you to the bridge of the vessel. The pilot offered you a reassuring glance as you stood before the maroon-tinted transparisteel, overlooking the hangar and the stars beyond it. The bridge offered a wonderful view, although you weren’t too sure why you were brought there in the first place. The wings rumbled to their flight position and the engines flared to life. 

 

_ Gods, don’t let me be thrown to the back wall of the bridge.  _

 

You found yourself clinging to the edges of a control panel as the shuttle thrust forward into space. It glided aimlessly for a moment more— a grace period before the jump to lightspeed. You took a whiff though your inhaler and tightened your grip on the little leverage the ledge offered. 

 

“Sit here.” 

 

Your breath hitched as Kylo gently took you by the wrist, ushering you to a commanding seat at the center of the bridge. You watched him curiously as he seemingly did the same, before disappearing behind you and out of your field of vision. 

 

Instead of being tossed to the side or thrown out of your seat, entering hyperspace only pressed you back into the cushion of the backrest. Your stomach still turned with the sudden velocity, but the experience was still rather pleasant relative to the last time— when it felt as if your breakfast would make a surprise return. 

 

As you slowed to a steady drift, the tunneling space which encompassed the vehicle dissipated to reveal a rich green planet with great oceans which split apart large slabs of continental crust. It was stunning— not quite as so with regards to the sister planet— but definitely more pleasant to look upon than your homeplanet or Starkiller. 

 

Sprawling cities glowed through the dark drape of night cast over the Western hemisphere of Gamma Trichent as luminous dots congregated about an epicenter. The shuttle floated down to the largest of these congregations, which you presumed to be the capital city of Pali Hamé. 

 

It felt safe enough to stand as you neared a docking area on the outskirts of the plaza. You marveled in the view of the city. It was all so big and ornate, yet the clusters of palms that trimmed each road and pathway were left untamed to needle at the borders of civilization. It was elegant in its own way— a harmony of wilderness and technology. You smiled at the very notion of it. Finding the poetry in the galaxy was always quite easy when it was served to you on a silver platter. It was really only difficult when things got uglier on occasion. 

 

“You said you liked this planet,” Kylo said, appearing beside you to admire the sweeping view of Pali Hamé. “But you had yet to see it for yourself.”

 

If you were any better rested, you would have leapt a few kilometers into the air at his sudden reappearance. Alas, you were not, and so the heart attack Kylo had subjected you to this time was but a minor one. 

 

“Yes,” you nodded, gaze locked onto the city. “I did say that…”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kylo getting jealous bc RC is totally comfortable chatting it up with a pretty stormtrooper AND NOT HIM. :^))))


	22. Pit Hound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Intuition, don’t fail me now.

The command shuttle landed steadily at the city’s designated ports. Although it was a way’s walk to get to the plaza and eventually the palace hills, the view from the bridge pointed you in the right direction. All the little dots from before amassed into one large, warm glow. In the distance, buildings with gilded teardrop dome spires jabbed up through the sky like a colony of flightless birds, beaks thrust upward in defense against an airborne perpetrator. The actual wildlife, however, flocked overhead in spite of these needles. You knew these to be an order of endless morphological diversity, yet in the dead of night, only brief flashes of color illuminated by the city lights bore against the inky blackness of the sky above. 

 

You stood at the bridge in silence, looking upon the inviting scene. Obscuring it was only the magnificent palms which swayed gently in the passing breeze. It was everything you had imagined in your readings, and akin to the fantastic places you had whisked yourself off to in the dreams of your youth. Dreams were all you had in those times, and here you were— on the edge of the horizon which you had chased countless times before. You were there, in the flesh. 

 

“I hate to interrupt your daydreaming, but the king will be expecting us shortly.”

 

You whipped around. For a moment, you had forgotten where you were, but Kylo’s modulated voice yanked you right back to the present. “That’s right. I was just— sorry.”

 

_ Shit. Don’t tell me I had that stupid wide-eyed blank stare that whole time.  _

 

You shook your head, thinking of the countless instances in which you had been lost to thought, subsequently staring pensively ahead of you— and sometimes in someone else’s general direction, much to your embarrassment. Regardless of your intention, or lack thereof, your “staring blankly ahead” always appeared to elicit an uncomfortable situation one way or another. 

 

You followed Kylo down the ramp and onto the surface, where Elle and the other stormtrooper awaited. For the first time, you could get a good, long look at him without feeling flustered. In other instances, he had been behind you, beside you, or looking you head on. None of those cases allowed you a proper situation to simply observe. Almost universally within the animal kingdom, staring down a second party— especially in the eye— could only mean one of two things: sexual attraction, or homicidal intent. The thought of that ultimatum was enough to make you squirm. To be frank, neither of those things sounded particularly thrilling, and you wouldn’t be the one to test that oculesic hypothesis. 

 

He radiated a very specific energy. It was something you had noticed before, but never considered very much until now. First, there was the obvious which manifested itself in the man’s overall demeanor— a sort of domineering, powerful presence that filled any room he was in. It didn’t take an ounce of observation skill to recognize that. There was the pent-up aggression too, which you had heard so much about, but had yet to experience first-hand. This too, was something that could be easily felt simply in the way Kylo carried himself, as well as though the waves that boundlessly rolled off of him. 

 

There was far more to him than what meets the eye, however. Like in the way that his soft curls poked out from underneath his helmet, a benevolence otherwise obscured by the turbulent, antagonistic shroud lay mostly dormant— but not defunct— unless one takes a good enough look. You had it easy so far, it seemed. Between a week off of work, thoughtful gifts, and a front row seat to savor what you considered to be among the most alluring, but still friendly enough, locations within the Unknown Regions, it was fair to assume you had somehow lucked yourself into the commander’s good favor. Such good graces were beyond difficult to come across. You weren’t sure how you had accomplished such a feat, but you didn’t want to assume too much with a person of which you still knew so little. 

 

“The plaza is just up ahead,” you said as the four of you regrouped. “It’s a bit of walking, but the hills lay just off to the side, and that’s where it’ll be…”

 

“The palace,” Kylo continued. “Where Radashi will await us.”

 

You winced at Kylo’s informal usage of the king’s name. He had better not try that ludicrousness around the man himself. Such a dishonor was punishable by death— and although you doubted that  _ Kylo  _ would be doing any of the dying, the hopes for the First Order’s partner in trade, as well as your own, were not so high. 

 

“Uh, yeah,” you nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

 

You and your new merry band of diplomats made off towards the plaza. It was humid, not unlike the sister planet, Garatira, but not nearly as miserable and overbearingly so. The wild bursts of tropical flora seemed to tame at the very edges of the path towards the innermost circle of the city. One needed not to travel very far from civilization to experience the same vigor of flourishing wilderness— albeit not nearly as dangerous as the real deal. It was something you could get used to. 

 

Still, there was something  _ about  _ him. You struggled to put your finger on it exactly. It  would be patronizing to say he was akin to a kicked puppy. Kylo was no puppy, at least it felt silly to think of him that way, and it took far more than a few kicks to breed a formidable temperament. When he had invited himself into your quarters, his prodding coupled with the insistence that you need not fear him was confusing enough, but it nearly felt like a plea of some kind. He took his helmet off and looked at you with the same apprehensive curiosity that you harbored for him. Sure, it made you even more nervous than before, but motive mattered more in such a situation. 

 

You recalled a time when dogfights grew to be prevalent in the Hefallian underground. Men from far and wide came to fight their Corellian hounds bloody for a few quick bucks— or a thousand or so. How the dreaded “sport” corrupted the poor animals. Having been raised in the ring for a singular purpose, they could mistakenly maul a child to death by chance encounter. It was not the animal’s fault, of course, for he was only doing as he was told. How easy it was to damn the creature to death if he were said to deserve such a punishment. Yet, there was no price to pay for the puppeteer himself— the man who taught the hound to murder. The man who constantly whispered to his prize a series of awful commands, and shouted them if he dared refuse them. These men of stone wielded an arsenal of tools, many of which used electrical charges, to beat their animals into the dirt. Those were reserved for when shouting was simply not enough. 

 

You couldn’t bear to watch it, but you couldn’t bear to sit idly by as the injustices were committed onto them. The hounds were transformed into what many presumed to be mindless killers, who would attack anything put before them in a fit of unadulterated rage, kindled meticulously by their masters. They rarely dared bite the hand that beat them, for they had memorized the feeling of the electric jolt sear through their bones since the first time as a small pup. Once you meet the devil, the image of his face will be engraved in the back of your mind, always. But when you kick a hound enough times, he is bound to bite back eventually. 

 

That was the story of Chief, the elderly champion undefeated— until he was. He saw the terrors of the galaxy that night after the fight, when he decided to challenge his master. Thrown out into the streets, you were the only soul who would approach the mangled, dangerous creature. Corellian hounds weren’t very pretty animals to begin with. They were large, stocky canids with thick, hairless skin, squinty slit eyes, and a maw full of long, regenerative teeth. An alpha male like Chief was only bigger, uglier, and much more aggressive. But as you drew near with a water dish in hand, he did not bear his fangs and snarl. He looked up at you, his reddened eyes pleading. He was tired, so tired he barely held the will to stand. He could if he needed to, but the hound did not want to fight anymore. 

 

He was frightened at first. Apprehensive, as he should be around the species that corrupted him. You with knelt before him, pushing the water dish forward. He was hesitant to drink, but alas he drank, the scarlet stains on his muzzle washing away. As he did, you extended a careful hand, bringing it to stroke his scarred cheek. He froze at the sudden touch, then turned to you. With the slightest and meekest of gestures, he licked your palm. It was something you knew he had never done before, but once he did, he licked you again. And again and again and again. 

 

Chief died later that night. But he died beside you, in the comfort of a warm home on a warm bed. He died next to a little girl—  _ his  _ little girl— like all hounds deserved to have. Even if that was the one happy moment in his life, it filled him with enough happiness to last an eternity. You were honored to have given him that chance. Every living thing deserved a chance. 

 

Sadly, very few were allowed such a comfort. As humans and the other prominent sentient beings colonized this galaxy without end, they relentlessly obliterated all that lay defiant in their path towards dominance. Only the creatures who learned to bow before their feet were spared. It turned even the most voracious hunters into house pets who lay on their backs, belly exposed in submission to an even greater hunter— greater, or perhaps worse. One may be of many opinions on it— these animals could be pathetic, cowardly, weak, or disgraceful. They could also be intelligent, meek, strategic, or hopeful. It was not necessarily weak to hope to live another day. Yet, it took a special bravery to live with one’s judgement rather than to die with one’s sympathy. Selling your soul is a great price— to some, greater than death. 

 

_ That  _ is what came to your mind after a while of prodding the topic in your thoughts. Perhaps, with that same careful coaxing, you’d be able to understand the commander. You knew there was something more, something you had yet to place. Nevertheless, Kylo had properly stolen your interest now, and it would be a venture which required only the faintest of touch. Luckily, you had built a career off of that particular skill. There was nobody more qualified than you to do so if he were the pit hound you thought him out to be. 

 

Maybe you were overthinking things. Maybe you were not. Your intuition rarely failed you. There was no reason for it to fail now. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was aiming to publish this a bit later, but I am sad right now and I needed to do something with that, so I wrote. I hope things don’t bleed into my writing too bad. Anyway...
> 
> I’m really sensitive about animal abuse. 😥
> 
> ...
> 
> I’m sure you all have noticed those horrendous new tags. “Theoretical physics” and “mathematics” and so forth... Well, hold onto your butts. I am not sorry.


	23. Down the Garden Path

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s always enough room for more hypothetical disasters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mentions of cultural and institutionalized sexism

The sweet aroma of baked goods was the first thing to hit your senses as your cobblestone path merged into a large, round village court. The pearlescent stones beneath your feet now spiraled inward towards a central green, where what you assumed were religious monuments were erected amidst decorative, extremely elaborate topiaries trimmed into intertwining geometric structures. As you looked closer at the ground, you found that the spirals didn’t all revolve clockwise, nor counterclockwise. Rather, they crisscrossed at such an angle, that there was no definite, collective direction of the spirals. They spun from both directions simultaneously, creating a mesmerizing pattern that drew in its travelers. 

 

_ Cheeky bastards. Of course they’d incorporate the Golden Ratio into something as trivial as the road pavement.  _

 

That wasn’t to say you didn’t admire the clever designing. The perfect spirals stretched outwards, connecting the far reaches of the plaza, and uniting them to a shine of what was most dear to Uharpan history and culture. It was just like the seedhead of a tropical flower. The seeds were grown in such a way as to ensure both optimal and uniform seed package on a horizontal plane. The flower couldn’t simply grow its seeds out in straight lines, as that would leave large gaps between each spoke, resulting in an underwhelming number of seeds on the head itself. Therefore, the seeds must demonstrate a certain degree of rotation in their growth from a single meristem in the center of the head. That special little number determining the fraction of a turn from the previous seed was known as Phi, or the Golden Ratio—approximately 0.61803 of a turn. 

 

Phi is irrational, arguably the most irrational of the irrational numbers, and the perfect candidate for nature’s composed, yet chaotic, disposal. Any old fraction would not do, as it would cause the cells to grow in stacked, orderly spokes. Any old irrational number would not do either, as many can be nearly rounded to a rational fraction, such as Pi, which rounds to 3 + 1/7. Phi is so dauntingly irrational, it stands unbugingly in the face of any diophantine approximation. While expanding an irrational number into a continued fraction may be useful for certain instances, say for approximating Pi into the second convergent 22/7 which in turn only yields up to the second decimal place 3.14— more complex fractions yielding closer approximations— the continued fraction of Phi is not so straightforward. This is because there are nothing but 1s in the fraction— the smallest possible value entry. Amazingly, the convergents of the continued fraction of Phi are, in themselves, ratios of Fibonacci numbers!

 

How miraculous it was, the way in which morphogenesis of a seedhead corresponded with such a unique value. Out of all the recurring patterns in nature, that was perhaps your favorite. These logarithmic parastichies which converge in lattices to create hypnotizing phyllotactic patterns were nearly too meticulously structured to be coincidental. It was almost as if some great architect purposely designed such details. It was truly breathtaking to scrutinize the sheer harmony of it all. The Golden Ratio, Golden Spiral, Golden Angle, Fibonacci numbers— each rendition of the concept presented itself in endless natural phenomena. They can be found in the number of petals, the phyllotaxis of plants, scaling of fruits, reproductive dynamics, anatomy of various living things, galaxy morphology, even weather phenomena. Crystal geometry and chemical proportionality, magnetism and rotational singularities’ thermal fluctuation intervals. 

 

Although mathematics wasn’t your particular academic aspiration, the way in which it intertwined with all things as big a galaxy, down to the tiniest flower, was nothing short of fascinating. Of course, it wasn’t a  _ law _ of nature, rather a commonplace curiosity that revealed itself, often in plain sight, to those who cared to look close enough. You mustn’t dwell on it too much, however, as such a rigorous topic often demanded obsessive immersion from those who dared dabble within it. 

 

It was safe to guess that the number of leftward and rightward whirling spirals also corresponded with Fibonacci numbers given the nature of the people, but it was simply not the time to walk around the plaza, counting the cobblestone bricks. There was business to attend to that night, and contemplating the mathematical poetry of the universe could wait until you were tucked into bed. 

 

_ On second thought, bedtime is a highly inconvenient period for the inevitable formation of existential crises. Especially now. No matter how inviting the quiet of midnight may sound. Gods… _

 

There was far more to your surroundings than the pretty cobblestone pavement. All around you were vibrant shops and restaurants and corporate offices that all had their own paths intertwining with the main circle. Flickering orange lanterns cut into monohedral tessellations were strung up between buildings, obscuring much of the ebony black sky above. 

 

The plaza was simply flourishing with life, and the most notable of all things were the Uharpans themselves. They were peculiar creatures, the inhabitants of the planet— ones that you weren’t entirely sure whether they were mammalian or some sort of primeval avian. It was difficult to confidently form a conclusion, and asking would certainly be an act of offense. 

 

The bipeds were short and stocky— the tip of their long, pointed ears barely reaching your chin if one were to stand beside you. They waddled around on three-toed digitigrade feet, with a thick and sturdy tail to help keep balanced. Only two toes really touched the ground, however, as the innermost was small and vestigial. At the end of either muscled arms were three digits— two fingers, and one opposable thumb. Every digit was armed with black claws, worn to a dull point from everyday abrasion. Still, it looked as if a swipe at a vulnerable area could deal quite a bit of damage. 

 

Naturally tropical, the average Uharpan flaunted a rainbow of colors. The hazy green fur that lightly dusted their bodies was typically patterned with darker, elliptical splotches, providing excellent camouflage when required. Ventral regions— including the tail underside, inner thighs and groin, stomach and broad chest, and even their faces— were countershaded with a soft beige, where no fur grew. Their most notable features had to be their crests. A long, thin, wedge sprouted between the middle of their eyes, extending between their ears. It was flexible and shone iridescent purple, reminding you of a feather crest of a bird. Two more of these purple crests curved off of smaller, rusty orange ridges that lined their eyes. As for the eyes themselves, they were akin to two large, golden half-moons with small, slit pupils lined in an endless range of hues. Their heads were largely trapezoidal, with a snout that tapered to a hard, beak-like tip tainted with that same rusty orange. 

 

Before they were engineers, the people were hunters, as evident in their physique and the sharp teeth that protruded over their bottom lip. One may doubt that common folk were of any relation to the great mathematical minds of the kingdom upon seeing them. Because of the climate of Gamma Trichent, the Uharpans needn’t wear much. A simple toga, or for the less modest, a kilt, were common articles of clothing. 

 

Perhaps the most endearing aspect of the species were the downy spurts of hair that also were reminiscent of an avian. A pale coral mane grew lusciously from their necks. Smaller tufts feathered their elbows, the tip of their tails, and down the backs of their elevated metatarsals. And at their cheeks, groomed tufts that stuck out to the side. 

 

With grumpy, hooded lids and a toothy scowl, the Uharpans were nearly a comical sight to behold, especially in the masses. You wouldn’t expect much from a stubby-snouted creature with an adorable, heart-shaped nose, whose stature required one to literally look down upon them in order to see eye to eye. 

 

However, it would not be wise to let this facade fool you. Uharpans were very proud, and very easily provoked. They’re far less laughable when you’re being stalked from the trees by militant gangs, sniper rifles in hand. Or, perhaps, if you had the audacity to challenge one to a fistfight. The men were trained from a young age into the specialized practices of  _ Tauchita _ , a traditional martial art. It was safe to assume you’d have a blaster bolt put through your skull the moment you were down. In their numbers, the Uharpans’ ability, especially on their own turf, was no laughing matter. It was best to entertain their social standards while you were here. 

 

You watched them go about their business as you walked through town— some tending their markets, others lounging around the central green. You did not see many women, to your disappointment. Like most other strict aspects of the culture, the gender roles were also rigid. You hoped that detail wouldn’t bring  _ you  _ any significant trouble while you were there. 

 

You continued on to a broad path with decorative hedges on either side. It led away from the plaza, spiraling up through a wooded locale. It grew darker the further you strayed from the plaza, but you were still guided by the lights woven into the bushes. Upon closer inspection, you found that they were not lights, but in fact azure bioluminescent bulbs, sprouting off of winding tendrils. The choice of species was clearly a deliberate one. The hedges were not only pretty, but useful. They required no energy, other than that amalgamated through photosynthesis, in order to shine as bright as any artificial light source. 

 

The lingering silence among those you dared call your  _ peers  _ grew to be unnerving as it was on the prior mission. Occasionally, you would flick your attention away from your surroundings and back to Kylo, Elle, and the other stormtrooper who still hadn’t bothered to approach you in any manner. You dared not stare too long, and you avoided thinking too loudly about embarrassing topics. There needn’t be a repeat of the Mitochondria Incident, nor the Staring Blankly Incident. How appallingly your life was riddled with such incidents. 

 

_...Is Fibonacci embarrassing? _

 

The path led you up over a sloping ridge which gave away to a huge courtyard with the utmost tailored fountains, statues, and topiaries. A gilded aisle cutting through its center converged with shining palace gates that caged away the royals from mere civilians. The palace itself looked very similar to some of the other plaza buildings, only far larger and ridiculously ornate. You needed to squint through the darkness in order to see every painstakingly carved detail on its pearlescent, ivory facade. The striking color— or lack thereof— designated it as the obvious centerpiece amidst the art and scenery. The spires, sitting atop gleaming white, were coated with rich metallic hues which put all other past structures to shame. 

 

As you reached the gates, six armored guards came into view. Each carried a selective fire assault rifle, its muzzle mounted with a high carbon durasteel bayonet. As they stopped you for identification, you found that their rifles weren’t the standard plasma-fueled blasters so commonly found across the galaxy. They were modified slugthrowers, and damn intimidating at that. 

 

It made sense. Blasters would deteriorate in a climate like this. So long as you kept it tended and oiled, the otherwise rudimentary rifle would last ages in the jungle. Slugthrowers were cheap, stealthy, accurate, and fast. While stormtrooper armor was impervious to most civilian-grade ballistic weaponry, custom long rifled slugthrowers could easily rip through plasteel. 

 

You glanced over at your own team’s weaponry. The stormtroopers carried the standard F-11D blaster rifle, and Kylo Ren carried his signature crossguard lightsaber. You, of course, were not armed, as you hadn’t ever been authorized or trained to handle any sort of firearm under First Order jurisdiction whatsoever. It was frustrating, really. You were well-acquainted with most firearms already, but you were supposedly a waste of time and resources to tactical operations. Yes, you were entrusting your life with two specially trained soldiers  _ as well as  _ perhaps the most formidable man in the galaxy;  _ however,  _ you did not like having minimal control over your own safety, even if you were among allies of the First Order. Maintaining that level of trust was easier said than done. 

 

It was fair to say you were outgunned  _ and  _ outmanned, in addition to being in unknown territory if the supposed friendly meeting went sour. Gamma Trichent was a nice planet and all— just as amazing as you had dreamed— but you had forgotten one tiny detail: the sociopolitical climate. Sometimes culture is more beautiful from afar, and right now, the gangs, militias, and a monarchy (no matter how “constitutional” it was) quite frankly rustled your jimmies to the bone. 

 

Now, Kylo could easily call for backup. After all, the  _ Finalizer  _ was just beyond orbit. But  _ your  _ particular worries didn’t dwell on Kylo and Elle and that other fellow. You held the utmost confidence in their ability to defend themselves.  _ You _ , on the other hand, were an unarmed, out of shape biologist who has not engaged in any sort of armed conflict in nearly seven years. You were  _ really  _ starting to regret not sneaking at least a pistol onto the command shuttle. Terrible sleep deprivation yielded terrible foresight. 

 

Now that you thought of it, there was indeed reason to worry beyond yourself. While plasteel armor at least stood a fraction of a chance against concussive rounds, you nor Kylo donned any sort of armor. And while you first assumed that he would be overqualified in defending against enemy fire, you had forgotten to consider that normally, that fire was of concentrated energy bolts— not lead slugs. Instead of being blocked as per usual, they’d melt upon impact with the blade. Kylo would have to rely on melee rather than deflecting bolts back at the aggressors. To make matters worse, he would have to deal with a higher rate of fire, faster traveling projectiles, and the inevitable switch to automatic fire. 

 

_ And lest we forget, the predicament of molten fucking lead.  _

 

As the guards performed a scan and let you through the gate, you put an end to your hypothetical anxieties. You wouldn’t want to make a bad impression on the monarchs. Impressions meant everything here. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys. I get it. Y’all probably just want Kylo to fuck you. But guess what? Math is gonna fuck you first. :^3
> 
> …
> 
> I do hope you can appreciate that math even just a little. *sweats* I fucking love math. Be happy I spared you Hurwitz’s theorem LOL. And bless Alan Turing for his contributions to sunflower morphogenetics (which aren’t talked about enough!!!!), his priceless war effort, and OF COURSE, comp sci. <3
> 
> Also, I hope nobody minds if I take creative liberties on in-universe firearms and particle physics. And once again, because I’m a filthy leftist (leaning), all of my weapon knowledge stems from playing video games, so PLEASE correct me if I am wrong about things. Cheers, love.


End file.
